August Holmes, Sherlock's Daughter
by Reganraeh
Summary: August was 13 when her life changed completely. Living in Ireland all her life, she was surprised to learn everything she thought was true was false. Being in a horrific car crash and dealing with the death of her parents and baby brother, she learned that her father wasn't actually her father, but actually a detective in London, England. How does Sherlock react to being a father?
1. Chapter 1: Car Wreck

I wake up to a soft beeping sound and look around slowly. This was the second day I was at the hospital. I tear up thinking about the events prior. I was in a car crash. My parents and brother died. My parents and brother died. My parents and brother died.

It was then that I noticed my Uncle was in the room with me. I tried hard to not glare at him with anger. The truth was, he terrified me. He was my Dad's brother; I didn't have any family on my Mom's side, unfortunately.

"Hello August." His voice was stiff. He was wearing a stained band shirt and sweatpants. His personal hygiene was horrendous.

"H-hi..." I stuttered, I hated when I stuttered. My uncle was the only one who could do this to me. He wasn't a good person. I had fallen victim to his abuse for years, having the scars to prove it.

"Your parents and brother are dead. Tim, Chrissy, and Ely are dead." He stated bluntly. "You'll be living with me since I'm your only family." My heart dropped as he grinned. I couldn't. I couldn't live with this man. Tears threatened to spill out of my eyes when the doctor interrupted us.

"Mr. Hurst? We would like a word with you." One of the doctors said. I glanced at the doctor and deduced that he was having marriage problems, but something else was bothering him. He hasn't shaved in a while, but his fingers trembled ever so slightly.

My Uncle nodded and left with the doctors. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I looked down at my arms, which were covered in bandages and IV's. I wasn't too badly hurt from the car crash, I was in the back of the car when the Tractor Trailer had slammed into our SUV. My parents were up in the front, and my brother was in the middle seat. I was extremely lucky by being in the back, the tractor trailer had missed me by nearly inches. My family wasn't so lucky.

The doctors told me yesterday that I only suffered a broken wrist and a concussion. They said that it was a miracle, but I think I would have rather died. What was the point in living without my family?

"WHAT! That's impossible!" I heard my Uncle shout from outside my room. Suddenly I see his silhouette from inside my room knock a bunch of books overs and stomp away from the doctors. Whatever they had told him upset him greatly.

My heart beat quicker, I knew what he was like when he was angry and it wasn't pretty. The two doctors came in shortly after and sat down on the chairs next to my bed.

"Hi August, how are you feeling?" One of them said, giving me a fake plastered smile. I saw right through it.

"What did you tell my Uncle to make him mad?" I questioned, propping myself further on the hospital pillows.

"Well... August when we ran a blood test we... discovered something." The doctor with the green tie said. "Yeah... it might come to a little bit of a shock but..." The other doctor tried to finish for him.

"Just tell me." I whispered, staring at the two men.

"Your blood doesn't match up to your fathers blood." Green Tie said. They waited for my reaction, and when I didn't say anything they continued. "It means the man you thought was your father isn't your father. Your mother and brother however, are your mother and brother. Or, half brother should I say."

I sat there in silence. What? My dad wasn't my dad? That was impossible. There's pictures of him the day I was born. Instantly my mind started turning. My mother cheated on him.

My mother told me that I was born when she was 17, and that it was an accident (thanks mom), but she married my dad, or who I thought was my dad a couple of years later. She cheated on my dad when they were dating. I could barely believe it.

"So... my father is not my father. My mom had an affair." I stated emotionlessly, picking at my wrist cast. This hospital was giving me a headache.

The doctors looked at each other. "That is correct. We have discovered who your real father is, and contacted him. It's a surprise that this hasn't been brought up before today. He said that you were welcome to live with him, after we show him the blood results, of course. You should really consider living with your real father. You don't have any extended family, but I'm sure Tim's brother would allow you to live with him if otherwise."

My heart practically stopped beating. I would live with a stranger any day than live with who I thought was my Uncle. "I'll consider it." I mumbled.

The doctors nodded to each other and squeezed my knee before leaving my room.

That night I sobbed into the disgustingly clean hospital pillows. After the two doctors had left my room, a social worker came in and explained more of the situation to me.

My father lived in London, United Kingdom, which was a surprise since I had lived in Ireland my whole life. I was born in Ireland and couldn't think of any family elsewhere. She also had told me that he was a detective. I smiled a little bit at that, I was always interested in mysteries. I guess my family was a living mystery.

I wiped my eyes and sighed, staring at the bleached ceiling tiles. I would be leaving everything I knew. I would leave all my friends and the house I knew as home. It excited me in a way. I didn't have much friends at school anyway. I was able to skip a couple grade levels since I placed above average in almost every test I received. A lot of the kids in my grade bullied me for being 'too smart', but I still had some friends who I loved dearly. My best friend, Lizzie came and visited me the day I was admitted into the hospital and cried with me. She would be upset when she finds out I'm going to be leaving the country.

The next day I was dismissed from the hospital. I had told the doctors and the social workers that I wanted to live with my biological father, and everyone agreed that that would be the best thing for me. I said goodbye to my friends over a phone call. Lizzie cried when I told her I was leaving, as I knew she would have.

I was able to go home and collect my stuff before I was to be sent on my way to London. I stuffed as many things as I possibly could in my suitcases before leaving my house for the last time. I touched the pictures on the wall before I left, deciding to take the one of my brother, Mom, me, and the man who I knew as Dad on the beach from a couple months ago. I started tearing up thinking about them, but tried to shut it out. It's going to be okay.

I grabbed as much clothes as I could, my favorite books, my makeup (which was very little), and my phone. A social worker was helping me pack and traveling to London with me to make sure I got there okay. I was thankful I could make her carry a extra suitcase.

"Are you ready, August?" She asked. She was a nice lady, about 24 years old with soft orange hair and dozens of freckles.

"Yeah. Thank you Ms. Harrington." I said, picking up my suitcase and placing it in the back of her car. She did the same with my other suitcase and we traveled to the train station.

The whole train ride there was a blur. I slept for most of the way, as I didn't sleep the night before. I had so many questions, but I stayed silent. Ms. Harrington sat beside me, playing on her phone for most of the ride.

When we arrived, Ms. Harrington hailed a cab and we rode to 221B Baker Street. I stared out the window as the roads flashed in and out of sight. London was huge. I grinned when the cabbie started talking. English accents were somewhat different from Irish ones. My mother wasn't born in Ireland, but she developed a light Irish accent from living there for so long.

"We're here." The Cabbie announced, parking on the side of the road. I noticed a door that said 221b and I took a deep breath. This is it.

"You'll be fine, August." Ms. Harrington said, patting my shoulder.

"I hope so. I hope he likes me." I usually never let nerves get the best of me, as I'm too smart to let something like being nervous affect me, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't.

We carried my suitcases to the door and rang the doorbell. Ms. Harrington set my suitcases on the side and told the Cabbie to wait, as she was traveling back to the Train station to go back home once I was settled at my new home.

I waited in anticipation for someone to open the door. What did my father even look like? Soon enough, a man with dark curly hair opened the door and stared down at me.

"Hello. I assume you are August?"

-  
A/N: Please tell me what you think! Criticism is welcomed! And if you spot any spelling errors! This is my first FanFiction story and I'm so excited! I'm going to be posting the next chapter in a couple of days!


	2. Chapter 2: Moving In

"Hello. I assume you are August?"

I stared at the man who had just opened the door. He had dark curly hair and piercing green eyes, like mine. He was wearing black dress pants and a long black coat with a scarf tied lightly around his neck.

"Yeah... I'm August." I said slowly, watching his reaction. Ms. Harrington felt the tension between us and decided to grab both my bags and make her way inside the flat.

"I guess we should do the same." My biological father stated, opening the door wider for me to come in. "You can call me Sherlock." He added.

"Where should I put her things, Mr. Holmes?" Ms. Harrington said, as soon as everyone was into the living room.

The flat was quite different than an average flat. It had books and experiments everywhere, but it did look like someone tried to clean up recently.

"Uhh you can place them in the guest bedroom upstairs. No one uses it anyway. It's connected to my flatmates bedroom to the right." Sherlock said, straightening up a tiny bit more.

I could tell he was a little bit nervous, but it was hard to read him. He kept his face blank.

"Ms. Hudson has tea prepared if you would like some." Sherlock turned to me and tried to look friendly. I smiled back, "I'm not really a tea person. I like coffee."

"Oh! I'm sure we have some of that... somewhere." Sherlock said, going to the kitchen.

"It's okay. I'm not very thirsty." I replied, sitting down on the couch.

"Very well." Sherlock replied, awkwardly staring at me.

Ms. Harrington came back downstairs from placing my suitcases in my room and hugged me. "Goodbye August, remember if you have any problems just call me. You have my number. The same goes for you Mr. Holmes. I will be checking up on you two in a month's time."

I hugged her back, I was actually going to miss her. "Thank you so much." Sherlock showed her the door and then she left.

"You have a flatmate?" I questioned, remembering what Sherlock had said earlier. He nodded. "Is he nice?"

"John? Oh he's a very kind man. He should be here in about... now." The door opened to reveal a short man with ashy blonde hair. He greeted Ms. Hudson before going up to me and Sherlock.

"Hello August. I'm John, Sherlock's flatmate." John welcomed me warmly and smiled. I like him already. I could tell he had some army experience. He stood up tall and straight.

"Hi." I smiled back. Sherlock showed me up to my room and went back downstairs. I grinned in the sight of it. It was a very plain room, but it was a good size. I started unpacking my clothes into the dresser and my books into the bookcase. After I was almost finished unpacking I put both my suitcases into my closet and sighed. I hung up the picture of me and my family near the bookcase.

I traveled back downstairs to see Sherlock and John sitting in the living room, quietly conversing among themselves. They stopped when they saw me. "Take a seat. I can see it in your face. You have questions. As do I." Sherlock said.

I sit down and a elderly woman places a hot cup in my hands. "Coffee, dear. I'm Ms. Hudson and I live right next door if you need anything. I stop by often." She reminded me of a warm grandmother. I liked her. Sherlock must have told her that I liked coffee.

"Thank you Ms. Hudson." I beamed at her. I loved coffee.

"Forget about the questions for a second, Sherlock. But she looks just like you." John murmured. It was true, I had long, dark curly hair that went to the middle of my chest. I also noticed that we both had green eyes and a high structured face. Now I know where I got my looks from, my nose and chin however, were all my Mother's. Sherlock is set back a moment as he studies me and mumbles something I couldn't understand.

"How did you know my mom?" I said, looking at Sherlock.

"How old are you?" Sherlock looks at me, his eyes piercing into mine.

"Thirteen."

"Thirteen years ago your mom and I were the best of friends. In fact, she was my only friend at that time. I loved her. She was the only woman who I let human emotions distract me like that. I won't be making that mistake again. As soon as I learned that she had a boyfriend, who she kept secret. I disappeared from her life." I listened to Sherlock, but couldn't help but notice John's face. His jaw had about dropped to the floor. He had amusement shining in his eyes.

"Oh do shut up John."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it." Sherlock retorted.

"I guess that makes sense. It's just so weird. Even my fath-my mother's husband thought I was his child." I said sadly, looking at my broken wrist and remembering the car crash.

"She concealed it very well. Not a lot gets past me. I am very sorry about your loss. Chrissy was a good woman." Sherlock replied, he almost looked regretful.

I thought about my family again. My mother was a wonderful woman. She always made sure that I was happy. I missed her so much. I also missed my brother, Ely. His birthday was in a couple months. He was going to turn six. Now he's frozen at five forever.

"Thank you." I replied curtly. I didn't want to think about my family anymore, or I would start bawling.

Sherlock looked a bit awkward, as if he didn't know what to say next.

"Sherlock's a funny name." I stated, trying to lighten the conversation. I hoped that I inherited my humor from him.

He almost looked offended. "Not as funny as being named after a month. Your mother couldn't have come up with anything a bit more interesting? I thought August was primarily a boy's name."

"Sherlock." John looked over to his friend and shook his head. "That was a bit rude."

"It's okay, like I haven't heard that one before." I retorted, pushing my long brown hair over my shoulder. I guess I got my humor elsewhere.

"I assume that you won't be too much of a nuisance? Don't touch anything that you don't know what it is. Actually- don't touch anything at all. Kids are known to be a danger hazard." Sherlock replied lazily, eyes closed.

"Yeah, whatever." I said, crushing all hope that I would actually enjoy living here. Obviously Sherlock has had no knowledge on how to be a parent.

"I can deduce from your thick Irish accent that you were born in Ireland, so your mum moved before you were born. Tim was Irish, she must have moved to his home country. You didn't have many friends at school as to why you agreed to move in with a man you didn't even know to a whole new country. Maybe kids bullied you, maybe you didn't fit in because you skipped a couple grade levels. How did I know that you ask? Oh it's obvious, Sherlock Holmes's daughter would be anything but normal. You're clever but not that clever. You were close to your family, yet closer to your mum and brother. You and your father never really got along, but you never had any suspicions about him not actually being your father. Oh but wait, there's somebody in your family that you hate. Your family is quite small. So you don't have any family on your mothers side or you would surely be living with them. Tim's family however, there must be a reason why you wouldn't live with them-" Sherlock rambled on, barely taking a breath in between his sentences.

"Sherlock that is quite enough! August has been through a lot and would do quite nicely without you scaring her half to death. Have some decency." Ms. Hudson interrupted Sherlock, scolding him. I had barely noticed that she sat down next to me and I flinched.

I held my breath. How could he possibly know all of that? I know that deducing people can be quite easy, I was better at it than most people. But what he just did was impossible. He was almost spot on.

"I..." Tears started flowing from my eyes. I have never been this emotional before. I hated myself for crying, but he was almost 100% correct in his deductions. And I did just lose everyone who meant the world to me not only three days ago.

"Sherlock! Apologize!" John came over towards me and helped me from the couch.

"What I said was only the truth. Her tears confirm that." Sherlock sneered, turning to pick up his violin.

I wiped my tears and let John help me in my room. "I'm sorry about him. He's always like that."

"It's okay. Now I know where I get it from." I replied.

"Get what from?"

"I was abnormally smart for my age. I skipped a couple grades when I was ten and I actually graduated secondary school a couple months ago. I taught myself how to deduce people. I'm not quite that good, but I'm alright." I chuckled darkly. "I can tell that you use to be in the army. Thank you for your service."

John paused for a moment. "You don't get everything from him. You're a sweet girl. That's amazing you graduated at thirteen. Wow." John then helped me put away the remains of my clothes and books in the now half full dresser and book shelf.

"Tomorrow will be better. I think he's just as confused about this whole situation as you are. Doesn't mean he has to be a grump, though." John said, smiling at me. I actually really liked John. He was easy to talk to.

"Yeah. I'll talk to you tomorrow, then." I giggled. John left my room and I changed into my black tank top and gray sweatpants to sleep in since the sun was setting.

Tomorrow will be better, I hope. 

A/N: So Sherlock was a bit of a twat. Can August and Sherlock settle their differences? How does August fit in with her new life?

Thank you guys for reading! I love all the feedback I get! :)

NOTE: I do have this story on Wattpad, so if you see a similar story don't worry, nobody stole this from me. :)


	3. Chapter 3: Mycroft

_"August, help me!" My baby brother screamed. I tried running towards him but he kept getting farther and farther away. Soon enough, he was out of my visual. I looked around and saw my mother sobbing. She was on her knees begging to God for her, Tim, and Ely to live. I rushed to her, only to be thrown back._

 _Suddenly, a huge truck came rushing forward. I screamed when it made impact on my broken mother. Metal flung from each side of me and I felt something wet on my face. Blood._

I woke up in a start. Tears were pouring down my face as I hurriedly wiped them away. That's what I must have felt in my dream.

I sat up, disorientated on where I was at. Oh yeah, I'm at my biological father's flat. I woke up quite late, so the sun was already shining through my curtains. I grumbled and got out of bed. I was definitely not a morning person. This day already sucks.

I got dressed into my dark wash skinny jeans and a red tee shirt. Suddenly, I heard yelling downstairs, along with a couple plates being knocked to the floor. I rushed downstairs to see Sherlock wrestling with a person who was wearing some sort of ragged clothing.

"Watch Out!" Sherlock yelled, pushing me out of the way and punching the man, knocking him unconscious. "What the hell was that?" I said, my eyes wide.

"For a case." Sherlock replied, smiling down on the body. I forgot Sherlock was a consulting detective. John had explained that people go to Sherlock for help when they couldn't figure out something for theirselves.

"Where's John?" I mustered up my courage and peered over to the body. It didn't have a face. I swallowed and looked away.

"I didn't know he wasn't here." Sherlock replied curtly, sitting back down on his chair. and picking up a book. I went in the kitchen and noticed a huge slash mark from where someone hit the kitchen table. I didn't say anything. I was making myself coffee and toast when John came inside.

"You took your time." Sherlock glanced at John from his book. So he did know John had left.

"Yeah because I didn't get to shopping." John said, glancing around the flat.

"What? Why not?" Sherlock set his book on the side table.

"Because I had a row in the shop with a chip and pin machine." John sighed, looking frustrated.

"You had a row with a machine?" Sherlock looked amused. I finished my toast and came into the living room, sitting down on the couch.

"Sort of. It sat there while I shouted abuse at it. Do you have any cash?" John asked.

"Take my card." Sherlock replied, nodding in the direction of his wallet.

John walked towards the kitchen but turned around. "You could always go yourself, you know. You haven't moved since this morning."

Sherlock and I made eye contact and I grinned. "I can go with you John." I offered, wanting something to do.

"Yes, good idea." Sherlock mumbled, looking into his phone. 

"How are you holding up, August?" John asked me while we were strolling through the shop. I caught my eye on a box of Oreos and almost put it in John's cart but decided against it. John must have seen the look in my eye because he placed the Oreos in his cart anyway.

"Thanks." I grinned. "I'm doing okay. It's a lot to take in. I wish Sherlock would talk to me more. I think he's embarrassed that he has a daughter."

John put a couple loafs of bread into the cart. "I'm sure he's not embarrassed, just shocked. He doesn't know how to take care of anyone other than himself. But you don't need much taking care of, do you?"

I thought about this. I was pretty independent for my age, I turn fourteen in two weeks. I did graduate early with straight A's and I knew how to feed myself. So there's a start. "Yeah, I guess so."

After John and I went to the store we returned back home to 221B. It was odd to think of the flat as my home, but I was coming around.

We put the groceries away when I noticed that Sherlock was on my laptop. "Is that my computer?"

"Of course." He replied curtly.

"What?" I was angry that he was going through my things.

"Mine was in my bedroom."

"You couldn't have been bothered to get up? It's password protected!" I hissed, going over to my computer and snatching it from him.

"ElyElyEly123 isn't quite hard to guess." He put his hands together in thought.

"Right. Thanks." I huffed, looking over to John for assistance. He just shrugged.

John went over to the sack of mail that they had received this morning. By the look of John's face it looked like it was all bills. "I need to get a job."

"Oh, dull." Sherlock muttered.

I looked at my phone and started texting Lizzie. I missed her so much. I told her all about Sherlock and John last night over the phone. She told me that her mom might let her visit in the next month, and I couldn't stop grinning. Sherlock said something about going to the bank that caught my attention.

"I imagine that you'll be okay here for a couple hours? Ms. Hudson is only next door. Don't touch anything." Sherlock said, preparing to leave the flat.

"Uh, yeah. I'll be okay." I tucked my legs from under me and continued to look at my phone.

"Don't open the door for anyone." Sherlock added. I gave him a sarcastic thumbs up before they left. He treats me like a child, it's infuriating. I spent the next three hours going through the flat. He told me not to touch anything, but oh well. I couldn't help but notice the skull above the fireplace. I picked it up and examined it. About 300 years old, male.

I heard someone knock the door and I dropped the skull in surprise, leaving a crack on the head. "Shit!"

I heard a pattern of taps again. Whoever was at the door was impatient. I went towards it, before I remembered what Sherlock had said. Don't open the door for anyone. I shrugged and opened it anyway.

There stood a man with a receding hairline and a umbrella he used as a cane. "Hi." I said nervously.

"Why hello. I'm guessing that you are Sherlock's daughter?" The man asked, looking down at me.

"How did you-" I started.

"Oh nothing gets past me. I'm Sherlock's brother." The man said, giving me a somewhat creepy smile.

I had an Uncle. The word Uncle gave me chills. I hated that word. "Sherlock's not here." I replied, closing the door slightly. He stopped the door from shutting with his umbrella and forced a smile. "Oh I know. I wanted to talk to you. Why are you so nervous?"

"I...I...Come in." I regretted saying it almost instantly. I just invited a man I didn't know into my flat. I already broken the only two rules Sherlock left for me.

The man came in and sat down almost instantly. I noted that he has been here before, so that was a good sign.

"Tell me a little bit about yourself. My name is Mycroft." Mycroft folded his arms and smiled at me. Something about him made me uneasy.

"My name is August. August Riley Hurst. I'm thirteen years old." I responded. I don't know why I told him my full name. I guess Hurst technically wasn't my last name after all. Maybe I would get it changed to my mother's maiden name, or perhaps Holmes one day.

"Ah, August." Mycroft said, testing the name on his tongue. "Pretty name."

"Sherlock thought different." I muttered.

"Yes I would imagine so. Sherlock isn't a people person." Mycroft smiled again.

"I got that." There was a awkward silence. Mycroft just sat there staring at me, making me uncomfortable. I guessed that he was around forty years old, not married, no kids, and he had an important job.

Suddenly the door opened and Sherlock and John came striding in the flat. They've been gone for hours, it was almost night now and they left early afternoon. Sherlock paused when he saw Mycroft sitting on the armchair.

"Oh for... August! You couldn't do one thing right? I said not to let anybody in." Sherlock walked towards his brother, glancing at the skull. "I guess you can't do two things right."

I looked down at my lap apologetically.

"Oh come on Sherlock. Be a little nicer to your daughter." Mycroft taunted.

"What do you want Mycroft?" Sherlock sighed. John went upstairs.

"You don't plan to let her stay here, do you?" Mycroft glared at Sherlock, all humor gone.

"She has no where else to stay." Sherlock replied sounding bored.

"It's too dangerous. She's only twelve? Thirteen?"

"Almost fourteen." I remarked, irritated at the conversation.

"Either way, she can't stay here. I can arrange her departure tomorrow. Foster care." Mycroft stood up. My heart sunk, I didn't want to be in foster care. I was much too intelligent to be placed in such a boring atmosphere.

"I don't think that's necessary, Mycroft. She's fine here." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Now out you go."

"Oh brother of mine. You don't know how to raise a child." Mycroft sneered.

"I'm not a child." I retorted.

"Oh and you can?" Sherlock turned around and glared at Mycroft, obviously getting annoyed.

"No. Just be careful, Sherlock." Mycroft grabbed his umbrella and walked out of the flat.

Sherlock glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "Are you okay?"

I looked up, "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm sorry I opened the door. And broke your skull."

Sherlock sighed. "It's fine. Just don't do it again."

Sherlock looked at me strangely but shook it off and started going through the paper's he had hung up on the wall. John was helping him try to decipher what everything meant, but he looked exhausted.

"I just need...20 minutes to sleep." John dozed off on the office chair, lightly snoring. Sherlock was still buzzed from the case he was working on. "Maybe I could help?" I offered. I had done nothing all day but sit around the flat. It was getting tedious.

"This is not something for a child to get involved in." Sherlock snidely commented, not bothering to look at me.

"I'm not a child, and I'm not as dumb as I look." I huffed, standing up and peering over Sherlock's shoulder.

"August! You're distracting me." Sherlock turned to look at me. He almost looked like he regretting shouting at me. "No, never mind. Forget I said anything." I commented, turning around and walking the other direction. I went upstairs and sighed. Nobody takes me seriously. It's not liked I graduated Secondary school at age thirteen or anything.

An hour later, Sherlock stuck his head in my door. "August."

I glanced up from my book. "Yes?" I wasn't in the mood to deal with him tonight. I just wanted to be left alone.

"I wanted to apologize for shouting at you earlier. You're right. You aren't useless, come with me and John tonight. We're working on a case."

I was shocked. Did he really want me to help him on a case? "Where are you guys going?"

"A traveling Chinese Circus. It should be amusing." Sherlock stepped further in my bedroom and eyed the family portrait that I had hung up when I first arrived here, nearly a couple days ago.

"Um, yeah. Let me get changed." I said, smiling slightly towards my biological father. He left my room and headed downstairs. I changed into black leggings and a purple long sleeved tee shirt. After I combed through my hair I went downstairs to wait for a cab with John and Sherlock.

Sherlock seated himself in the front of the cabbie, ordering him where to go while John and I sat in the back. "You look nice, August. How was your day?" John smiled at me.

For some reason John always lifted my mood. He was just easy to talk to. "Nothing, actually. I was quite bored today. I decorated my room a little bit and watched TV."

"And broke my skull." Sherlock muttered from the front seat. I ignored him.

When we arrived to the circus, Sherlock instantly went in detective mode. He talked quickly with John, while I tried to enjoy the show. It started off with a woman in bright jewels uncovering a giant bow and arrow. She showed the arrow to the crowd and set it in the bow.

She demonstrated that the slightest amount of weight, such as a feather, would set off the bow.

"Classic Chinese Escapology act. The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires." Sherlock said, watching the show more intently.

I looked at the bow and arrow and grimaced. It looked dangerous.

The warrior allows himself to be tied up in front of the bow and arrow the Opera singer cuts open the bag of sand, leaving the warrior merely seconds to get out of his restraints.

 _Oh my god. he's not going to make it._ At the very last second, he rips himself free of the chains and the arrow was set off.

I gasped in surprise, jumping and bumping into John. John turns and grins at me.

When I looked over my shoulder, Sherlock had vanished. Typical. The next acts were just as great as the one before it. I was actually enjoying myself for once.

"This is amazing." I said, looking over to John. He nodded his head in agreement.

Suddenly, I saw Sherlock being flung in the middle of the show's center. He was fighting with one of the acts. John sprung into action and pushed the man away from Sherlock. I rushed and grabbed a nearby sword, beating the man who had managed to put John in a headlock.

"Come on! Let's go!" Sherlock yelled, grabbing both John and my hands. Sherlock hailed for a cab outside, and rushed the cabbie to get to our next destination.

We ended up at the Scotland Yard, Sherlock walked in briskly, requesting to talk to a man named Dimmock. "Look, I saw the mark at the circus – that tattoo that we saw on the two bodies: the mark of the Tong."

The man Sherlock was talking to turned around from his desk and has turned to face us.

"Lukis and Van Coon were part of a... a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something when they were in China; something valuable." John huffed, excitement racing through his eyes. He looked like he was just as excited as Sherlock. Interesting.

"These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back." Sherlock muttered. I was so lost. What were we doing at the circus? What was John and Sherlock's case?

"Get what back?" Dimmock said.

Sherlock looked angry. He looked down and huffed.

John filled in for Sherlock, "We don't know."

"You don't know."

Sherlock was still looking down, anger flaring.

"Mr Holmes..." Dimmock sighed, sitting down. "I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something."

Sherlock looks at him, a faint smile gracing his lips.

"I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it – other than a massive bill for overtime." Dimmock finished. 

We left soon after that to go back home to 221B Baker Street. I was hungry and ready to go to bed, but Sherlock was still hyped up from the events that happened only minutes before.

"I'm hungry." I complained, trying to get Sherlock's attention. I knew it wouldn't work before I even said anything.

"Sherlock, they'll be back in China tomorrow." John said, dodging the grates of books that now surrounded our living room.

"No, they won't leave without what they came for. We need to find their hide out; the rendezvous." Sherlock retorted back, eyeing the papers he had pinned to the walls.

"I'm still hungry." I said, rubbing my stomach.

"Oh god. Children." Sherlock sighed, closing his eyes in exasperation.

John ordered us takeaway while we watched Sherlock stare at the photographs on his desk.

I picked up one of the photographs, much to Sherlocks's dismay and started studying it. "These numbers are a cipher, Sherlock." I studied number coding last year.

"Exactly." Sherlock said, anger bouncing off him.

"Each pair of numbers is a word." I continued.

Sherlock looked up at me when I said that, "How did you know that?"

"I studied these last year, and two words have already been translated." I put the picture down on Sherlock's desk and pointed to the Chinese symbol.

"Soo Lin at the museum – she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!" Sherlock shouted. "Nine Mill. Nine million quid. For what?"

Sherlock suddenly gets up and starts walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?' John asked from the kitchen.

"To the museum; to the restoration room." Sherlock grimace in exasperation. "Oh we must have been staring right at it! The book - the key to cracking the cipher!"

Sherlock ran out the door, leaving me and John in bewilderment.

A couple minutes later, the doorbell rang. "That must be our dinner." John stood up and made his way to the door. Thank god. I was starving.

I heard something fall to the floor and rushed out to John. I stared in shock when I realized that he was unconscious. A masked man stood behind him with a pistol.

"Don't make a move." The masked man told me. I didn't know what to do. I was frozen. Another masked man from behind him moved towards me, and I squealed. He grabbed my shoulder and made me face him, shoving a cloth into my nose and mouth. _Chloroform_.

I instantly saw black. 

Three Chapters in 24 hours! I'm on a roll. This is probably the longest chapter I have done on this story, and it follows the episode, The Blind Banker somewhat. Will August and John be okay? Hehehe

I have written and edited the next chapter already. I will upload it early if I get five comments. :) (srry I'm a thirsty hoe)


	4. Chapter 4: Kidnapped

I woke up with a blinding headache. It took me a minute to realize that I was bound and gagged into a chair. I tried to get free, but my bonds were too tight. I glanced over to John and noticed that he was bleeding out of his left temple, but he was awake. Thank god.

"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pockets." I looked up and saw the Opera singer from the Chinese circus glare at John. I made eye contact with the former soldier, he didn't look as scared as I was feeling. Maybe this was a normal thing for him.

I studied the Opera singer more closely. She was wearing sunglasses even though we were in a dark tunnel. Two men stood a little ways behind her. Human made fires lit the grounds throughout the tunnel.

The woman lifted her sunglasses and glared at John. "Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes."

"I..I'm not Sherlock Holmes." John said, startled.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." She pushed John back and went through his wallet. "Debit card, in the name of S. Holmes. A check for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Sherlock Holmes. And finally, tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes."

I guessed that the check was given to John earlier today, while I was stuck in the flat with Mycroft. Sherlock had lent John his debit card this morning so we could have gone shopping for groceries.

"I realize what this looks like. I'm not him." John tried reasoning, getting desperate. 

I looked around the tunnel. There was no way out, unless I freed myself from my bonds. I took a shaky breath, my head splitting in two. I must have been hit in the head as well. I closed my eyes and focused on if I had any external injuries. _Nothing that broke the skin,_ I concluded. 

The woman brings out a pistol and points it at John's head. My breath was caught in my throat. No. John can't get shot. I haven't known him for long, but I realize I did care about him. He has been the only one to make me feel at home, other than Ms. Hudson of course.

I heard John's labored breaths as the woman grinned. 

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" She cocked the pistol and grinned at him, while John struggled against his bonds. She clicked the gun in place, and I was relieved to find out it had an empty load. 

"It tells you that they're not really trying." She smirked. 

The Chinese Woman slides a clip into the pistol and then cocks it at John's head a second time. My heart skips a beat.

"Not blank bullets now. If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive." She retorted, sighing and putting the gun in her pocket.

"Do you have it?" She faced John.

"Do I have what?" 

"The Treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about." John replied, struggling against his bonds furthermore. 

"I would prefer to make certain. Everything in the west has its price; and the price for her life." The two men from the back load an arrow into the crossbow and point it at me. I started hyperventilating. John turns to look at me apologetically. 

The two men come over and pick up my chair, setting me down in the direct path of the arrow. Tears started coming down my eyes and I choke on my gag. 

"Where's the hairpin?" The woman asked angrily, her patience was running low. 

John struggled against his bonds again. "What?" 

"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West; and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr. Holmes, have been searching." The woman said, cocking the gun towards John.

"Please… please listen to me. I'm not Sherlock Holmes." John said desperately.

The woman shook her head and walked towards me. "I need a volunteer from the audience!" 

"No. Please. She's just a girl. Leave her out of this." John pleaded, looking at me with anguish in his eyes. 

"Ah, thank you, girl. Yes, you'll do nicely." The woman grinned down at me and suddenly I lost it. I wailed through my gag and started to tug desperately at my bond. I didn't want to die. My mother would want me to live my life as best as I could, even if that meant without my family. I didn't want to die.

The woman takes out a knife and reaches up to a nearby sandbag that was suspended over a pulley hanging from the ceiling. She stabs the knife through the bag and the sand begun to pour out.

I cried into my gag and pulled on my bonds. I was going to be shot with an arrow.

John sighed and stared at the bag in horror. "I'm so sorry, August."

The woman grinned. "Remember me as Shan, woman who defeated Sherlock Holmes. Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holme's pretty companion in a death defying act!" 

"Please stop!" John begged.

The woman walked towards me and placed a black flower on my lap. This was it. I was going to die. I struggled against my bonds, my hands bleeding in the process. My broken wrist was in agony, I'm sure I had setback any of the healing process I have made.

"You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends." Shan smirked. I tried to calm my breathing, but it was to no use. 

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" John frantically yelled.

"I don't believe you." Spat Shan, looking over at John.

"You should, you know." I heard a voice from the entrance of the tunnel. Sherlock. Thank God.

"Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him. How would you describe me John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?" Sherlock called, taking down one of Shan's thugs.

"Late?" John retorted.

Shan pointed her gun where Sherlock's voice was coming from.

"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand meters per second." Sherlock called, I still couldn't see him. The sand was halfway to the trigger by now. 

"Well?" Shan questioned.

"Well… the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you." Sherlock answered, running towards a dustbin and knocking it over. The fire that was keeping the tunnel lit soon went out, and Sherlock was soon concealed by the darkness.

I felt Sherlock behind me, squatting. He was trying to undo my bonds. I whimpered quietly from the pain in my head. Suddenly, one of Shan's thugs came out from behind Sherlock and attacked him, choking him with a scarf.

I looked at Sherlock, sending a silent prayer that he would be okay. I turned my attention back to the arrowhead pointed directly at me. I then looked at the sandbag, which was seconds from triggering the arrow.

John stared at me, with wide eyes. He knew I was going to die if he didn't do anything. He threw all his weight out of the chair and made it towards the crossbow, but fell down merely paces away from it.

I gazed at the descending metal ball and tried to get out of my bonds. I considered re-breaking my wrist to be able to slip out of the tight ropes, but decided I wouldn't have enough time. Tears spilled from my eyes as my wrist burned in pain. I stared at the arrowhead for the last time, this was it. Maybe death wouldn't be so bad. Maybe I could see Ely again.

Suddenly, John manages to kick the crossbow upwards and shift it's position, twisting it to the left just as the ball connected with the cup. The arrow was sent flying and buried into the stomach of the thug Sherlock was fighting. 

I was alive. I let out an anguished sob that racked my body. Sherlock was at my side in seconds. "It's all right." He untied my gag and took it away from my mouth. 

"August, You're going to be all right. It's over now. It's over." Sherlock comforted. I was hyperventilating. 

"Sherlock, untie me. She's in shock." I heard John say from across the room. Sherlock left my side to go untie John after he untied the bonds that held my arms.

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock patted him on his shoulder, eyeing the gash on the side of his head.

"Yeah I'll be okay." John stood and walked over to me. He placed both of his hands on my shoulders and shook me gently. I wish he didn't do that. I was dizzy enough.

"August calm down. You're cold." He tried helping me up. My body was ferociously shaking, and I couldn't calm down. "Sherlock come on, let's get her home." 

Sherlock and John supported my weight as we walked out of the tunnel and on the main road. "You're so thin." I heard one of the men mumble, but I couldn't quite decipher who said it. I was out of it.

Sherlock rose his hand and soon enough a cab stopped to pick us up. This time, all three of us rode in the back.

When we were all settled inside the cab, heading towards 221B I started shaking again. I mentally scolded myself for looking so weak in front of Sherlock and John.

"It's okay." John said, rubbing my arm.

"I know." I whispered. My wrist was throbbing painfully from being tied up. I rubbed it gently. John noticed that I was holding my wrist. "May I?"

"Yeah." I held my arm out to him and John undid the hard cast that was on my wrist. I noticed I had big, black ugly bruises that coated my skin. After John poked it gently he wrapped it back up.

"It seems like it's okay. Just keep your cast on and don't put any weight on it." John said, nodding at me. 

Sherlock looked down at his lap in regretful. "I'm sorry." He sighed.

"It's okay." I rested my head on John's shoulder. His coat providing me warmth. I was freezing.

"John, why is she so cold?" Sherlock questioned from beside me. He had a strange look in his eyes. Jealousy?

"She's in shock, try to warm her up." John replied. "Hey Cabbie, could you turn the heat up?"

The cabbie gave John the thumbs up and turned the heat to the highest setting.

Sherlock took off the coat he was wearing and placed it around my shoulders.

"Thank you." I replied. This time, leaning my weight against Sherlock. I felt him tense up for a moment before he relaxed. He rubbed my knee comfortingly. Maybe we could become a functioning family after all.


	5. Chapter 5: Past Meets Present

It has been two weeks since the incident with the Chinese Circus. Sherlock has actually let me help with two out of five cases that he was assigned. It made me feel like I had some sort of purpose at 221B Baker Street, and in Sherlock's life. I wasn't just moping around the flat all day, looking for something to do.

I did go grocery shopping with John a lot too, he has always been the easiest to talk to. Although Sherlock and I are having a breakthrough with our relationship, it's going slowly.

Ms. Hudson took me clothes shopping just the other day, and I was able to buy new clothes for the upcoming winter months. I was so grateful for my new life, even if it was somewhat dangerous. Ms. Hudson had told me that I needed to make friends my age, that hanging out with a bunch of middle aged men all day was going to do me no good. I laughed, but agreed with her. As much as I did enjoy spending time with John and Sherlock, I missed the comfort in having friends my own age.

Sherlock took me over the Scotland Yard often, he had told me that it was to keep me out of trouble, but I knew he liked knowing that I was safe and busy helping Molly (and not touching anything at the flat). When Sherlock introduced me to the Scotland Yard as his daughter, almost everyone had flipped out.

"You have a...daughter?" A man with grey hair, who I later knew as Lestrade asked.

"I thought that I made that quite clear." Sherlock mumbled, obviously not interested in humoring him.

"Where's her mother?" Molly had asked, flushing a deep red.

I sighed. "She died in a car crash, along with who I thought was my father and my little brother." I glanced around the room. Sherlock was examining a dead body, while Molly and Lestrade kept staring at me.

"I'm...I'm so sorry." Molly said, squeezing my shoulder in comfort. I was tired of that word. Sorry. I didn't need anybody's pity.

"It's fine." I remarked curtly.

Sherlock must have asked Molly if I could help her out at the morgue, because he started dropping me off there every couple of days. I was smart enough to know what he was doing, but I had actually liked helping Molly so I didn't complain. It would look really well on my resumé for when I wanted to go to Uni, or get a job anyway. Molly quickly became a good friend.

Sherlock and John had also tried to teach me how to use a gun, which went as well as you could guess. Sherlock claimed that I needed to know how to defend myself if the situation ever occurred, and John agreed with him.

"God. August just hit the target. It's not that hard." Sherlock sighed in exasperation. I had a pistol in my hands and I had missed every target I tried to hit. I even took out one of the lights on the ceiling.

"Here, try holding it this way." John moved my hands to a more comfortable position. I tried to shoot the target again, and had actually hit my mark.

"There you go!" John cheered, grinning. I had to grin back, the ex solider's smile was contagious.

"Try one more time." Sherlock had said, standing slightly behind me. I raised the gun and squinted, holding the gun the way John had shown me. I pulled the trigger and I hit my mark the second time.

"Yes!" I had cheered, grinning up at Sherlock after I had set the gun on safety. He paused, but then finally gave me a soft smile.

"You're doing better." Sherlock had said. It was extremely rare to get him to say anything that sounded like a compliment. I beamed at him, "Thanks."

It was a slow afternoon at Baker Street. Sherlock didn't have any cases he was currently working on, so he was bored. John had gotten a job at the surgery, so I didn't see him as often as I would have liked to. I missed him while he was at work.

"I'm bored." Sherlock complained, laying across the couch.

"Me too, actually." I had said, looking up from the book I was reading.

"Let's play a game." Sherlock suddenly sat up and looked at me, he was smirking.

"What kind of game?" I asked, bewildered. I didn't know Sherlock knew how to play a game. He was so serious all the time.

"The art of deduction." Sherlock grabbed my laptop and typed in the password, which I changed just the other day. He must have guessed my new one. I stood up from my chair and sat next to him on the couch, looking at my computer screen.

"I'm going to show you pictures of random people, and we are going to deduce them." Sherlock had explained, loading the first picture of a woman who looked to be about 40. "You go first."

I was slightly setback. I wasn't as great as this as Sherlock was, but I could try. "She looks like she's in her early forties... maybe a school teacher. Primary school? No, secondary school." Sherlock nodded for me to keep going.

I sighed, "She has no kids and she's not married. There's no ring on her finger. She does, however have a cat. Two cats. She has paw print earrings in her ears."

Sherlock nodded at me, "That was good. But of course you just missed most of the important stuff." I huffed in annoyance.

"She's not married because she's a widow. Her husband had died...maybe two years back. She wears his ring as a necklace around her neck. Only a widow would do that. She's depressed, by the state of her clothes. She hasn't washed them in... five days? But continues to wear them. They are good quality clothing, so she can surely afford to wash her clothes... If she was in a hurry she wouldn't have done a face full of makeup, stating that she doesn't care how she presents herself." Sherlock had concluded. I stared at him in amazement.

"How did I miss all of that?" I asked, bewildered.

"You weren't paying attention. You need to look in between the lines. Notice her clothes, but really look at them. Pay attention the the indents on her skin, how she styles her hair. It's all important. You'll get the hang of it, you aren't bad." Sherlock praised, closing my laptop.

I loved it when Sherlock complimented or praised me, I had fallen into a cycle of wanting him to be proud of me. He was my father, after all, but I have never called him as such.

I heard the doorbell ring. "I've got it!" Ms. Hudson yelled from downstairs. I looked at Sherlock and he shrugged, laying back down on the couch, unbothered.

"August, it's for you!" Ms. Hudson called me downstairs. I got up off the couch and made my way to the door. I had no idea who would be at the door. I didn't have many friends in London.

Ms. Hudson passed me from the stairs and smiled at me. "He says he's your Uncle?"

I instantly paled. "Okay." I prayed it was just Mycroft, who had finally accepted me as his niece. Not likely.

I took a deep breath and opened the door to find my former Uncle Charlie. He wasn't my Uncle anymore though; I had no relations to him. I studied him further, he was pissed. He smelled of alcohol and cigarettes.

"What are you doing here?" I questioned, stepping back to create some distance between us.

"You thought you could just move to London and everything would be fine. You thought you could just leave me and everyone you knew in Ireland. You are a selfish, selfish girl." He sneered, jabbing a finger towards me.

"I'm not selfish. I'm living with my father. My real father. You have no relations to me anymore, Charlie. He's my only family." I commented, my heartbeat quickened.

"Real father? Yeah right! You knew my brother loved you more than anyone else in this world. He's more of a father to you than that man you're living with right now is." Charlie glared at me. It looked like he was looking right through me.

Suddenly, Sherlock was behind me. "What's the matter?"

"August is coming to live with me. I'm Tim's brother. In other news her Uncle." Charlie had said bitterly.

My heart dropped. No way was Sherlock going to agree to this. This man was repulsive. I hated him with every being in my soul.

"Maybe it would be safer for you to live with him." Sherlock looked at me. I cannot believe what I was hearing. Did he not like me here?

"See. Not even your father wants you." Charlie had sneered at me. This better just be a bad dream.

"You didn't let me finish. I said that maybe it would be safer, but she's staying here." Sherlock moved towards Charlie in a threatening manner. He must have deduced Charlie and my history together.

"No." The horrific smell that came from my former Uncle almost choked me when he came near me. He suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled me outside 221B. I yelped in surprise when he twisted my arm upright, and I went crashing to my knees.

"Please stop." I whispered. I started to shake in fear.

"Oh this does look familiar. You, on your knees. Begging." Charlie sneered. "The good ole times. The good ole times when my brother was alive. When I had someone to fuck around with. You just had to fuck everything up!"

Sherlock came forward and shoved Charlie off me, releasing the pressure on my arm. "Don't you EVER touch her again! Do you understand me?" Sherlock yelled, twisting Charlie's arms behind his neck and forcing him to the ground. Sherlock made it look quite easy, especially since Charlie was drunk.

"Let go of me, you psycho!" Charlie had cried out, glaring at Sherlock. Sherlock had only twisted his arms in a more destructive manner.

"Leave. And never come back. If I ever, and I mean ever, see you again - you're dead. And I'm not a psycho, I'm a high functioning sociopath." Sherlock snarled, releasing Charlie and shoving his repulsive frame towards the road.

The drunk man looked back at me, and then ran towards a cab that was driving along side the road and got in. That was the last time I ever saw Charlie.

Sherlock looked at me, "Are you okay? Let's go inside."

I nodded and walked behind Sherlock up the stairs. Ms. Hudson looked at me worriedly, but I smiled lightly at her, proving to her that I was alright.

Once we were in the living room, I sat down in John's chair. I closed my eyes and relaxed in the old cushions that gave me so much comfort.

"You were abused by your uncle growing up. Sexually abused." Sherlock stated, still standing.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. "What gave it away?"

"This... this is no joking matter, August." Sherlock took a seat on his couch and leaned towards me.

"I know it's not. It doesn't matter. I'm disgusting, I know." I commented. I was embarrassed. Sherlock's not going to want a daughter who was sexually abused by her uncle. He's not going to want to be related to someone who was so weak.

"It wasn't your fault." The detective said, focusing on me.

"Leave me alone." I got up off of John's chair and tried to go upstairs. I just wanted to be by myself. The only person who knew about what Charlie had done to me was Lizzie, and she was in a whole other country.

"Augu-" Sherlock started to say.

"No! Leave me the hell alone! I hate you!" I screamed. I didn't know why I had yelled at Sherlock like that. I actually didn't hate him, and he did nothing wrong.

I marched to my room and slammed the door. I fell into my bed and started sobbing. I felt bad for yelling at Sherlock, but I figured that he would be okay. Why did Charlie have to follow me here? I thought that I had finally gotten away from him.

After I had dried my tears, I heard someone come up the steps and open my bedroom door. It was Sherlock.

"August, I'm sorry if I'm not the best father in the world." He started off awkwardly. "But I am trying. I know these past two months have been really hard for you and I can't even imagine losing loved ones like that. The only person I have come close to loving is John and I can't imagine losing him the way you lost your family. I may not be the best at empathy, but I am trying. My heart may be bigger than you think it is."

I was taken back. I never expected Sherlock to say something like that, I was imagining that he would have explained to me his great master plan to take out Charlie, or something about a case, but instead he sounded human.

"It's okay. I know you never imagined yourself as a father. I understand that. Thank you for trying, that's the best thing you have given me. You've been more of a father to me than Tim has been. We never really got along, I guess me and him subconsciously knew we weren't meant to be placed in the rolls of father and daughter." I babbled, smiling sadly at Sherlock.

The detective sat down next to me on my bed and hugged me. He's never hugged me before. I squeezed Sherlock back before I pulled away.

"I'm always going to be here for you, you're my daughter. Nothing like that will ever happen to you again." Sherlock insisted. "Although, you must understand that living with me - it's not the safest place to live. Mycroft told me that the second day you were here, and he's right. I have many enemies, but as long as I can prevent it, I won't let anything bad happen to you."

I hugged Sherlock again, this time not letting go. Silent tears spilled down my eyes.

"Thank you, Dad."

A:N If you/re actively reading this story can you comment something so I know? I feel like nobody is enjoying it :/

Also I feel like I'm portraying August's character too weak, I want her character development to be stronger :)


	6. Chapter 6: Explosions and Chess

"No way!" I say amused, looking at Ms. Hudson with the biggest grin on my face.

"It's true. I use to take exotic dance classes when I was younger. I'm not quite sure about now, however. With my hip and all." She smiled at me and rose the cup of tea to her lips.

"Do you think you can teach-"

"NO!" Sherlock cut me off from where he was on the couch. I looked at Ms. Hudson and she winked at me, dropping the conversation.

"Well I think I must be going, I got a load of laundry to do. I'll chat later, August, Sherlock." Ms. Hudson stood up and left the flat, closing the door softly.

My phone chimed quietly and I saw that I got a text from Lizzie.

 _ **Happy BIRTHDAY! I miss and love you so much, I'll visit soon, but in the meantime, celebrate fourteen years like you mean it!**_ I smiled down at the text and replied. I don't want to tell anyone else that it was my birthday. I didn't want anyone to feel obligated to get me anything.

Suddenly I heard gunshots ring through my ears and looked to see Sherlock shooting the wall. John came sprinting up the stairs and quickly glanced at me to make sure that I was alright.

"Sherlock, what the _HELL_ are you doing?" John yelled, eyeing the gun in Sherlock's hands.

"Bored." Sherlock sulked.

I shook my head and sighed, sometimes I forget that I was the youngest one of the group.

The detective sprung up and took two more shots out on the wall. "Bored!"

I got up from the kitchen and came to sit on the couch, watching as John unarmed Sherlock and removed the clip.

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them." Sherlock pouted. He always acted like a child when he had nothing to do, most people would find joy in having a break once in a while, but Sherlock always had to have something to occupy him.

"So you take it out on Ms. Hudson's wall?" I questioned, studying the holes from across of me.

"The wall had it coming." Sherlock ran his fingers along side the yellow smile that he had painted on the wallpaper. He turns to me and flopped on the couch I was sitting on. He smirked at me then pushed his toes in my face.

"Gross! Knock it off." I giggled, batting his feet away.

"What about that Russian case?" John asked, taking off his coat and placing it on his chair.

"Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time." Sherlock had muttered, closing his eyes.

"Ah. Shame." John went in the kitchen. "Anything to eat? I'm starving." He opened the refridgerator but quickly shut it. "Oh... fuck. It's a head. A severed head!"

"Just tea for me thanks." Sherlock replied, eyes still closed.

"No, there is a head in the fridge." John had walked back into the living room, and stared at both me and Sherlock.

"Yes." Sherlock muttered, obviously having no concern about the body part in our fridge.

"A bloody head!" John shouted in exasperation.

"Well where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock looked at me, "You don't mind do you?"

"I don't think I have much of a choice." I replied, trying to push Sherlock's feet off my lap.

"See, she doesn't mind." The detective closed his eyes again.

John holds out his hands despairingly and looks back towards the fridge and sighed.

"I'm measuring the coagulation of salvia after death." Sherlock waved his hand vaguely in the direction of a nearby laptop. "I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

"Uh, yes." John glanced at the fridge before he gave up.

"A study in pink. Nice." Sherlock said sarcastically. I had read that on my laptop the night before and enjoyed John's documentation of what happened on that case. I actually loved John's blog.

"Well you know, pink lady, pink case, pink phone - there was a lot of pink. Did you like it?" John spoke, glancing at Sherlock who had picked up a magazine from the coffee table.

"I liked it." I said, smiling at John, who smiled back at me.

"Ermmm, no." Sherlock said sarcastically.

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered." John argued.

Sherlock lowered his magazine dramatically, "Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacular ignorant he is about some things."

I giggled, what John wrote on his blog was so accurate.

"Now hang on a minute, I didn't mean that in a -" John started apologizing.

"Oh you meant spectacularly ignorant in a nice way..." Sherlock interrupted. "Look it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister or who's sleeping with who."

"Whom." I corrected.

Sherlock stared daggers at me. "What?

"Who's sleeping with whom." I glanced at my father and grinned sheepishly.

"Or whether the Earth goes around the Sun." John filled in.

"Not that again. It's not important!" Sherlock shouted, obviously irritated at John and me.

"It's primary school stuff, how could you not know that?" John leaned towards Sherlock from his chair.

"If I ever have I deleted it." Sherlock placed his hands on his head and sighed.

"Deleted it?" I questioned, finally lifting Sherlock's feet from my lap and standing up.

Sherlock swung his legs around to the floor and sat up to face John. "Listen. This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put thing in there that are useful. Really useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

I sat down again on he couch, now that Sherlock wasn't taking up all the room with his long legs.

"But it's the solar system!" John insisted, amused.

"So we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear. It wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots. Put that in your blog, or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world." Sherlock elaborated rudely.

John got up from this chair and put on his jacket. "Where are you going?' I asked him.

"Out. I need some air." He snapped.

"You know, you are very inconsiderate and selfish at times." I glared at Sherlock. "You shot Ms. Hudson's wall and yelled at your only friend."

"I don't have friends." Sherlock muttered.

"Right."

Sherlock got up from the sofa and walked over the coffee table and going to the window, as if he couldn't be bother going around the coffee table. He watched as John left the flat.

"Look at that, August. Quiet, calm, peaceful. Isn't it hateful?" Sherlock scanned the sheet and drew a long breath.

"No, actually. Some people enjoy the peace and quiet. I'm sure a case will turn up soon. A nice murder, perhaps." I sighed and grabbed my phone, texting John and asking if he was alright.

"Can't come too soon." Sherlock sighed, he turned to look at the bullet holes in the wall and smiled. Suddenly I felt white hot heat come from the window. Stabs of pain seered my arms and face. An explosion.

I looked to Sherlock and saw that he was also on the ground, groaning in pain. "Sherlock." I began.

Sherlock stood up slowly and looked around. There was glass from the windows everywhere. I was bleeding from where a couple pieces were lodged in my skin.

Sherlock grabbed my hand and helped me up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a bit of glass in my arm. What happened?" I said, picking at the glass that was lodged in my skin.

"Looks like a gas leak from across the street. Here, there is bandages in the kitchen. Grab the tweezers as well and come back." Sherlock ordered, picking up large shards of glass and placing it in the trash so nobody steps on it.

I went in the kitchen and spotted the bandages and tweezer. I handed them to Sherlock.

"Sit down. And hold still." Sherlock ordered again. He picked out pieces of glass from my skin and wrapped my arms. "Thanks." I grinned up at him and he looked at me weirdly.

I started laughing. My life was far from normal now, but I loved it.

"What are you laughing at?" Sherlock questioned.

"This. My life. Your life. It's just funny." I continued laughing, and eventually Sherlock did too. Soon, we were both laughing hysterically on the floor when Ms. Hudson came barging in.

"Are you alright? Why are you laughing?" She questioned, fear in her eyes.

"Yes we are all right Ms. Hudson. Seems to me that there was a gas leak from across the road." Sherlock sat up and started cleaning up, placing wooden boards on the window.

Ms. Hudson started chuckling lightly. "You Holmes family are crazy."

I smiled at Ms. Hudson, "I think I'm going to go wash up and get ready for bed." Sherlock nodded at me before continuing to converse with Ms. Hudson.

I walked upstairs and turned the shower on. I peered out the window from the bathroom and realized that it was getting dark outside, it was around 5 PM.

My phone beeped. _**I'm staying at a friend's house tonight. -JW**_

I nodded at my phone before throwing it on my bed and returning to the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror before brushing my teeth. My hair has gotten longer from when I first arrived. It was nearing my waist; I would have to go and get a haircut soon, maybe I'll get a pixie cut.

I undressed and stepped into the shower, letting the warmth from the water swallow me.

When I was done bathing, I dressed in my dark gray sweatpants and a soft long sleeved tee shirt. When I went downstairs I was amused by the sight of Ms. Hudson and Sherlock playing Chess.

"I win." Sherlock announced, pumping his hands in the air.

"Oh you just got lucky." Ms. Hudson laughed. "Can I play?" I asked, sitting down next to Ms. Hudson.

"Do you know how to play?" Sherlock questioned. I narrowed my eyes at him teasingly. "I was in the Chess Club once. I'm good."

Sherlock reset the board and Ms. Hudson moved to the side of the game to leave room for me and Sherlock to play.

We played for twenty minutes before I finally figured out a way to win. I trapped his King between both my queens. "I win." I smirked at my father. "Told you I was good."

"Mmmn. You played well." Sherlock praised.

"You are good, August. Do you have any more secret talents we don't know about?" Ms. Hudson joked with me.

I beamed at her, "I can juggle."

"Oh please. I didn't know my daughter was raised in a circus." Sherlock said, amusement flashing his eyes.

I gathered my hair in a hair tie and put it in a bun. I spotted three apples on the kitchen and rushed over a grabbed them before standing over to Sherlock and Ms. Hudson.

"Watch." I placed two apples in my right hand, and one in my left. I started tossing them in the air and soon I was jugging the apples.

Ms. Hudson laughed and clapped her hands together.

"Oh, please. Anyone can do that." Sherlock retorted.

"You do it then." I insisted, I pushed the apples in Sherlock's hands and sat on the couch with Ms. Hudson.

Sherlock looked down at the apples for a moment before tossing an apple over to his other hand. Suddenly, he dropped all three.

"See! You can't do it." I joked, pointing at the now broken apples.

"Ah. Useless skill." Sherlock criticized. I smiled at him before shaking my head.

We played board games before the three of us grew tired. Ms. Hudson retired to her own flat before I went to my bedroom. I glanced at the picture I had hung up when I first got here. My family.

I focused on my baby brother's smile before looking down. I missed him so much. His orange freckles popped when he grinned whole heartedly, where the picture had captured the moment. I basically grew up taking care of Ely, ever since he was born.

I then focused on my father's face. I didn't feel anything. No emotion. It's not that I didn't love him, because I did, but we just never clicked. Maybe it was because he wasn't my actual father, who knows.

Finally I looked to my mother. My heart suddenly panged painfully. She had orange hair that went to her shoulders. I definitely didn't get my looks from her. Ely looked more like our mother than I did. I was definitely Sherlock's child.

I went to bed with a smile on my face.

A/N: Hello everyone! This was a bit of a filler chapter. The next couple chapters are going to follow the episode, The Great Game. Not every chapter is going to follow the series, because that would be boring. I have finally mapped out how I want this series to go, and I'm excited to write future chapters!

I love hearing your thoughts! Please leave me a comment! 3


	7. Chapter 7: Deductions

I sipped my daily morning coffee and crunched into my toast. It was the morning after the explosion from across the street, and Sherlock had put wooden boards on our windows so the heat stays inside.

The doorbell rang and Sherlock went to go get it. It wasn't John, because he would just come straight in, and it wasn't Ms. Hudson because she would do the same.

I heard Mycroft's voice and groaned internally. I didn't want to see the man who tried to send me away to foster care again.

"Why hello August. I see that you are uninjured from the explosion?" Mycroft twirled his umbrella and smiled at me. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

"Yeah I'm okay. A bit of glass but we were lucky." I attempted to smile at him.

"Good, I'm glad." Mycroft sat down on the couch, and Sherlock stood across from him. I decided to finish my toast in the living room, and sat on John's armchair. Maybe this could be a family bonding session. I snorted at the thought.

"I want you to take a case for me, it's important." Mycroft started. So that was the reason Mycroft had stopped by.

"Sherlock! August!" Suddenly John came sprinting up our stairs. He glances at the boarded up windows, and then to me and Sherlock.

"John." Sherlock mumbled from under his violin. He was plucking at the violin's string, trying to tune them.

"I saw it on Telly. Are you guys okay?" John turned to Sherlock.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah we're fine. Gas leak, apparently." Sherlock looked at the windows and sighed.

"I can't." Sherlock replied, looking at Mycroft.

"Can't?"

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time." Sherlock muttered, continuing to pluck at his violin strings.

John looks across to Sherlock in disbelief. It was rare when Sherlock turned down a case. Especially since Sherlock didn't have any cases to work on at the moment.

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance." Mycroft insisted, staring at Sherlock.

Sherlock sulkily flicked his fingers across his violin strings. "How's the diet?" I grinned at their brotherly rivalry.

"Fine." Mycroft scoffed. "Perhaps you can get through to him, John."

John walked to the windows to investigate the damage done by the gas leak. "What?"

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock glanced at John, then back at Mycroft.

"No-no-no-no-no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so ..." Mycroft slipped up.

I looked at my Uncle in surprise. Korean elections? Why would the British government get involved with that? I saw that John and Sherlock were looking at him the same way that I was.

"Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?" Mycroft covered up. "Besides, a case like this – it requires ... legwork."

Sherlock turned to John, who was absently rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?"

"Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa." Mycroft deduced. I studied John further, by the way he was standing, it looked as if he had slept somewhere uncomfortable. Such as a sofa.

Sherlock studied John, "Oh yes, of course."

"How ... Oh, never mind." John huffed and looked down.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became ... pals." Mycroft had brought up. It was true, there was at least two people at our doorstep a day who wanted Sherlock to listen to a mystery of theirs. "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine."

"I'm never bored." John admitted.

"Good! That's good, isn't it? August how are you getting along? Child's services haven't picked you up yet for awful parenting?" Mycroft snickered, smiling at me.

"No. I'm doing just fine." I defended myself. Mycroft wasn't the most pleasant person.

"Oh. Happy birthday, August. I know it was yesterday, but better late than never right?" Mycroft babbled from his chair.

Sherlock and John looked at me in surprise. "You didn't say it was your birthday." Sherlock muttered.

"I didn't want to be a bother." I admitted.

"Again this makes me question your mother's choice of name. You were born in a winter month yet your name is a summer's month. Odd." Sherlock concluded, narrowing his eyes at me.

I sighed in exasperation. He loved picking on my name.

"You should have said something August, it's no bother to at least say Happy Birthday." John came up and rubbed my shoulders. I smiled at him.

"Anyway, Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends." Mycroft went to hand Sherlock a case file, but then decided against it and handed it to John. "A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?" John asked.

Mycroft sighed. "Seems the logical assumption."

"But ...?"

""But"?" Mycroft urged John on.

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." I filled in for John.

Sherlock was applying rosin to his bow with a small cloth. He smirked noisily.

"The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defence system – the Bruce-Partington Programme, it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick." Mycroft informed, glancing at me and narrowing his eyes.

I snickered. "That wasn't very clever." Sherlock smiled at his lap.

"It's not the only copy. But it is secret. And missing." Mycroft sneered.

"Top secret?" John asked.

"Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands." Mycroft demanded. "You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you."

Sherlock huffed in annoyance and rose the violin to his shoulder, ready to play. He looked at Mycroft. "I'd like to see you try."

"Think it over." Mycroft threatened.

Mycroft turns and walks over to John, offering him his hand to shake."Goodbye, John."

John politely stands and shakes his hand.

"See you very soon. Oh and John - don't mention August in your blog. Conceal her relations with Sherlock, don't need that information getting around."

"Why?" Why did Mycroft want me to be a secret?

"Sherlock has a lot of enemies. Let's leave it at that." Mycroft went and walked downstairs, shutting the door on his way out.

Sherlock began to repeatedly play a short irritating sequence of notes. John frowned across to him but Sherlock continued to play. I screwed my face up at the terrible sound coming from my father's instrument.

"Why'd you lie?" I questioned. "You've got nothing on – not a single case. That's why Ms. Hudson's wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Sherlock said, shrugging.

"Because that would make too much sense." I sighed. I stood up and put my plate and mug into the kitchen sink. It was getting full. I started loading the dishwasher up when I heard Sherlock's phone ring from across the room.

"Sherlock Holmes." I heard Sherlock say into his phone. "Of course. How could I refuse?"

Sherlock stood up and switched off the phone, he put his violin onto the seat and headed to the door. "Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?"

"If you want me to." John said, humbly.

"Of course." Sherlock smiled at John. "I'd be lost without my blogger. August, are you coming?"

"No. I'll finish the dishes and meet up with you guys later. Ill text you to see where you're at. I think Molly might needs me at the morgue." I said, putting another dish in the dishwasher.

 _Do you need my help today?_ I sent the text to Molly after I finished putting the dishes away.

 _Yes, I would love help!_ I typed at my phone and grinned, I actually loved helping Molly at the morgue. Most people would think that working with dead bodies was creepy, but it was actually interesting to see that there was so many ways someone could die.

I put on my winter coat and walked outside, waiting for a cab. Once I saw a taxi I waved it down and got it. "Bart's morgue, please."

I arrived at my destination and handed the cab the money. "Thank you."

I walked towards the morgue and looked for Molly, when I spotted her I rushed towards her. "Hey Molly!"

Molly smiled at me, "Hey August. I'm a bit stumped on my latest project. This man died of unnatural causes, but I can't seem to find anything." I glanced behind Molly to see a middle aged man on the inspecting desk.

"It seems as he was poisoned, but there is no needle marks. And nothing in is ingestive system." Molly stated, poking the deceased man's skin.

I studied the body and moved the man's glasses. When I didn't see anything I looked at his hair and felt his head. There was a remotely large bump that was emerging from his hair. How did Molly miss this?

"Molly there's a bump on his head. Possibly a needle mark. He was murdered." I confirmed, backing away from the body.

"August you're a genius. I'm so glad you help me." Molly grinned at me and wrote down the final report. Suddenly a man with tanned skin and groomed eyebrows walked in.

"Oh! August this is my boyfriend. Jim this is August. Sherlock Holme's daughter." Molly introduced me. I studied Jim further. No way he was into Molly. I didn't want to believe in stereotypes, but he looked like he could pass for being gay.

"I didn't know he had a daughter. This changes things." Jim said.

What does he mean changes things? "What?"

"Oh, I'm a huge fan of Sherlock. I read his blogs." Jim smiled at me. I didn't like him.

"Gotcha." I politely assured. I finished writing down the diagnosis of the man Molly and I were examining and put my pencil down.

"I think Sherlock should be here soon. Let's meet him." Molly said, trying to lessen the awkward communication.

The three of us left the room where the body was held at and went into another room that held Sherlock and John.

"Hey guys." I greeted, smiling at the boys. John smiled back, "Hey."

Sherlock briefly glanced at me before returning to his microscope.

"Any luck?" Molly asked.

Sherlock triumphantly shouted. "Oh, yes!"

Jim came up behind us, but then stopped halfway. "Oh sorry. I didn't..."

"Come in! Come in!" Molly assured Jim, who was hiding behind the door. Why was he so nervous?

Sherlock glances over to Molly and then to Jim. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes." Molly introduced. John turned to look at Jim.

"And..uh..." Molly stammered. I loved Molly, but did she really forget John's name? I sighed and shook my head.

"John Watson. Hi." John filled in politely.

"Hi." Jim smiled at John, but then locked his gaze towards Sherlock admirably. "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?"

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance." Molly giggled, staring intently on Sherlock's reaction. I sighed again. It was obvious that Molly had a crush on Sherlock and was using Jim to make him jealous.

"Gay." Sherlock muttered. I hid my smile, I wasn't the only one who thought that.

"Sorry, what?" Molly defended.

""Nothing." Sherlock turned to Jim. "Um, hey." Good coverup.

"Hey." Jim lowered his hand and accidentally knocks a metal dish off the edge of the table and scrambles to pick it up. "Sorry! Sorry."

John turns away and face-palmed, while Sherlock looked irritated. Jim wasn't the best person t be around a science lab. Molly's boyfriend puts the dish back on the table and then scratches his arm as he wanders back towards Molly. I sighed. Again.

"Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at The Fox, 'bout six-ish?" Jim covered. I would want to leave too.

"Yeah!"

Jim stoped beside Molly and put a hand on her back. "Bye everyone. It was nice to meet you, Sherlock."

Sherlock ignored him and continued to look into his microscope. I groaned internally. Why did he have to be so rude?

Jim awkwardly turns and leaves the room. Molly waited for him to leave before speaking. "What d'you mean, gay? We're together."

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you." Sherlock glanced over Molly's body.

I gasped. "Sherlock! You ass. You don't say things like that. Especially to a girl."

Sherlock didn't even look up.

"Two and a half." Molly tried to defend herself. I felt bad for her.

"Nuh, three." Sherlock argued. He wasn't even talking to me and I was getting irritated. I can't imagine what Molly is feeling.

"He's not gay. Why d'you have to spoil ...? He's not." Molly insisted angrily.

"With that level of personal grooming?" Sherlock snorted.

"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair." John argued.

"You wash your hair. There's a difference. No-no – tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear." Sherlock looked at John.

"His underwear?" Molly asked, still angry at Sherlock's deductions.

"Visible above the waistline – very visible; very particular brand. That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here..." Sherlock showed the card Jim had left behind. "...and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain."

Molly stares at Sherlock for a moment but then turns and runs out of the room.

"Charming. Well done." John said sarcastically.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?" Sherlock questioned. He actually looked confused. Oh my god.

"Kinder? No, no, Dad. That wasn't kind." I commented, crossing my arms and looking at him.

John looked at me in surprise when I called him Dad, but I ignored it.

Sherlock puts down Jim's card and then reaches over and moves one of the trainers on the desk closer to me. "Go on, deduce."

"Really?" I was still angry at Sherlock's rudeness from earlier.

"An outside eye, a second opinion. It's very useful to me." Sherlock commented.

I sighed. "Retro design, from the eighties. These are quite big so they are a man's."

"But?" Sherlock looked at me.

"But there's traces of a name inside in felt tip. Adults don't write their names inside their shoes. So these belonged to a kid." I concluded.

"Excellent. What else?"

"The owner loved these shoes. They cleaned them often and changed the laces. Maybe three times?" I finished, looking to Sherlock. "How did I do?"

"That was pretty good, August. You're getting the hang of it. You missed some important parts, but you're getting there." Sherlock praised. I grinned, I loved when I made Sherlock happy.

"There are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old. They're not retro – they're original. Limited edition: two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine." Sherlock deducted. It still amazed me how he could do that.

"But there's still mud on them. They look new." John pointed out.

"Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it." Sherlock picked up the shoe and looked to the bottom of it.

"How do you know?" I questioned, I really did want to know.

Sherlock nodded towards his computer screen. "Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me. South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind."

"So what happened to him?" I asked.

"Something bad." Sherlock concluded, sighing. "He loved those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them go unless he had to. So, a child with big feet gets...Oh. Carl Powers"

"Sorry, who?" John asked, completely lost. I had no idea what Sherlock was going on about.

"Carl Powers, John."

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's where I began." Sherlock jumped up and went towards the door. "Are you coming August?"

I thought about it, "No. I'm staying here."

"Suit yourself." Sherlock walked out the door and soon John followed.

I went to find Molly and sat by her. "I'm going home."

She looked at me, "Okay. Thank you for your help today, August." I grinned up at her and left, hailing a Taxi to 221B.

Once I arrived I took my shoes off and flopped on the couch. I was exhausted. Soon, I fell asleep.

I woke up to John and Sherlock coming inside the flat. I yawned as they conversed about the case Sherlock was working on. They had five more hours before the woman on the end of the phone was to die. John filled me in on Sherlock's case a couple hours ago over text, I felt awful that people's lives were at stake.

"Your brother is texting me. How does he know my number?" John came to the living room where Sherlock was surrounded by papers from the case.

John put his phone away and walked in the kitchen. "Look, he did say 'national importance.'"

"How quaint." Sherlock sighed.

"What is?" John questioned.

"You are. Queen and country." Sherlock rummaged through his papers again.

"You can't just ignore it." I chimed in from the couch, wiping the sleep from my eyes. I was annoyed that they had woke me up from my nap.

"I'm not ignoring it. Putting my best man onto it right now." Sherlock grinned.

"Who's that?" I said, stretching my arms over my head.

"John. And you, go with him." Sherlock demanded.

When John and I made it to Mycroft's office, I was wide awake. Sherlock also demanded that I wore a dress, and John a suit. I hated dresses.

"John. August. How nice. I was hoping you wouldn't be long." Mycroft walked in the office and smiled. "How can I help you?"

Mycroft walked straight past John and put down the report on the desk, imperiously waving a hand in John's direction to signify that he can sit down again. He did.

"Thank you." John sat down, and I took the set next to him. "Um, well, I was wanting to ... um, your brother sent me to collect more facts about the stolen plans, the missile plans."

While John and Mycroft talked about Sherlock's case, I played on my phone. It's not that I wasn't interested, because I did, but something made me feel off with Mycroft.

I broke out of thought when John went to stand up. "Time to go."

"Wait. John you go, I would like a word with August." I looked over to John and he shrugged.

I stayed in my seat, and Mycroft waited for John to shut the door before speaking. "Are you comfortable staying with Sherlock?"

I was puzzled, he already asked me that this morning. "Yes. We are getting along fine."

"Good. I'm glad to hear. If you need anything, you can text me." Mycroft assured me.

That was a kind offer."Thank you, that means a lot."

Mycroft smiled."I give you my deepest apologies about your uncle. He had been dealt with appropriately, think of it as a late birthday present."

"How... how did you know about Charlie?" I was stunned. Did Sherlock tell Mycroft about him? He wouldn't do that.

"I am the British government. Nothing gets past me." Mycroft assured me, smiling again.

"Thank you." I said sincerely. I meant it.

I got up from my chair and left, feeling a weight off my shoulders. John and I left to go return to 221B.

I walked in the flat and flopped back on the couch. Sherlock was studying a microscope when we came in. My eyes drooped closed when I rested my head on the pillow.

I faintly heard Sherlock and John talk about the case, but they faded out of my hearing shortly.

"She's exhausted." I heard John comment.

"Yes well, August has become very busy, helping with Molly and all." Sherlock said, I could tell he was looking at me, even with my eyes closed.

I felt someone lift me up and go upstairs. Sherlock was carrying me to my bedroom.

"How kind of you." I whispered, amused.

"Just go to bed." Sherlock sighed, setting me down softly on my mattress. I fell asleep instantly.

The next morning, Sherlock and John insisted that we went downstairs to the cafe for breakfast. I liked the idea of having pancakes instead of toast.

John and I sat opposite from Sherlock. I shoveled the freshly cooked pancakes in my mouth as Sherlock tapped his fingers against the table, keeping his focus on the pink phone he possessed.

"Why do you hate tea? Is that some Irish thing? To not like tea?" Sherlock questioned me as I took a sip of my coffee. I almost choked. "What? No I just don't like it."

"You're obsessed with coffee." My father stated.

"I like it." I said, amused.

"Mmm. You realize we've hardly stopped for breath since this thing started?" John sighed, smiling down on his plate of food. He eats another forkful of food, but paused. "Has it occurred to you ..."

"Probably." Sherlock said, not letting John finish. I hated when he interrupted people.

"No – has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope; breaking into the other flat; the dead kid's shoes – it's all meant for you." John warned, putting a fork full of eggs in his mouth.

"Yes, I know." Sherlock smiled at John.

"Is it him, then? Moriarty?" I asked. John had told me that Sherlock was being sent a series of puzzles, and if he didn't solve them then the person who called Sherlock on the pink phone died. It made me sick.

"Perhaps."The pink phone beeped and Sherlock switches it on. A photograph of a smiling middle-aged woman appears on the screen. I recognized her.

"That could be anybody" Sherlock stated.

"Well it could be. Lucky for you, me, Ms. Hudson, and John watch far too much telly." I grinned, my Irish accent filled the cafe.

John went to go turn on the Cafe's TV and pointed to the TV. Suddenly, the pink phone rang and I heard an elderly voice through the phone.

When Sherlock ended the phone call, I looked up at him. "What happened?"

"Twelve hours before an elderly woman dies. I have another puzzle to solve." Sherlock got up from his chair and we followed him out, heading to the Morgue.

When we arrived, Connie Prince's body was laid out on a table, a sheet covering her body leaving her head, arms, and chest bare. I was slightly star struck. I had loved her show, it was sad that she had died.

Sherlock examined the body. "Tetanus bacteria enters the bloodstream – good night Vienna... Something's wrong with this picture."

"Eh?" Lestrade looked over to Sherlock.

"Can't be as simple as it seems, otherwise the bomber wouldn't be directing us towards it. Something's wrong. August. John" Sherlock analyzed, looking over to John and me.

John and I came closer to Sherlock. "Yes?"

"The cut on her hand: it's deep; would have bled a lot, right?" Sherlock asked, prodding Connie's skin. "But the wound's clean – very clean, and fresh."

I realized what he was implying. "How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?"

"Eight, ten days." John answered.

"The cut was made later." I confirmed.

"After she was dead?" Lestrade questioned.

"Must have been. The only question is, how did the tetanus enter the dead woman's system?"

John and I study the body, deep in thought.

"You want to help, right?" Sherlock looked at us.

"Of course." John said, nodding at Sherlock.

"Connie Prince's background – family history, everything. Give me data." Sherlock ordered.

"Right." John went to leave the room and I followed, wanting to help as well. I hated death. I hated the person who was doing this to Sherlock, forcing him to solve puzzles to save people's lives. It was disgusting.

 _Moriaty._ He was the one doing this.

A/N: im ded actually rip. Okay and this is FOURTEEN PAGES ON WORD. Holy shit. Bravo for getting to the end of this chapter.

Im sorry this follows the episode too closely, I tried to change it up a bit. This will be the only episode from the series that this series follows that closely. It just helps me advance the plot ;) The next chapter will be the last chapter from The Great Game.


	8. Chapter 8: Moriarty

John and I have been huddled over a computer in the Morgue for hours, trying to figure out any information that Sherlock could find useful.

"I need a break." I sighed, pushing my body off my chair and stretching. John nodded at me, but continued looking through the computer.

I walked outside to get a bit of fresh air. It was chilly outside, but I loved the weather. I sat down on the concrete steps and sighed. I had no idea where Sherlock had run off to, I hope he can save that old woman.

Suddenly, I see Jim from the corner of my eye. I looked at him. "Hi."

"Hey August, mind if I sit?" Jim asked, smiling down at me. I noted that his accent had changed. He was Irish? He had a British accent yesterday.

"Yeah sure. I'm sorry you and Molly didn't work out." Molly had told me that she broke it off with Jim, but she wasn't too upset about it.

"Oh it's alright." Jim sat down next to me. "You know you never know what to expect. You should always be on your toes. People aren't who they say they are."

Who was this man? Why was he saying these things to me? I studied him further and tried to deduce him. I couldn't.

"Well I must be off. Long day at work." He chucked. Jim sat up and walked away. When he left I had a unnerved feeling. I really didn't like him.

John opened the door. "C'mon August, we need to go interview someone." I nodded and followed John into a taxi. I couldn't get my mind off what Jim had told me. People aren't who they say they are? Was he talking about himself?

John and I arrived at a man's house shortly after, and we sat down on his couch. A hairless cat jumped in my lap and I grinned. I loved cats.

"It's more common than people think. The tetanus is in the soil, people cut themselves on rose bushes, garden forks, that sort of thing. If left un..." John looked up to owner of the house, surprise surrounding his features.

"I don't know what I'm going to do now." Kenny said. I had no clue as to why I had to come and interview this man. Why couldn't John do it by himself? 

"Right." John muttered.

"I mean, she's left me this place, which is lovely... But it's not the same without her."

I looked around the living room, this house was far from lovely.

I scratched the cat's chin and smiled. It was ugly, but lovable.

"Th-that's why my paper wanted to get the, um, the full story straight from the horse's mouth. You sure it's not too soon?" John fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable.

I pet the cat again, but then pulled away. I smelt my fingers and realize that the cat's claws were coated in disinfectant. Did the cat kill Connie? It couldn't have.

"Excuse me." I sat up and went outside, I dialed Sherlock's number and waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, you need to get over here. I think...I think I'm onto something. You'll need to pick up some stuff first. Do you have a pen?" I asked, tapping my foot on the sidewalk.

"I'll remember." Sherlock had assured.

Once Sherlock arrived, we both went back inside the house.

"That'll be him." John mumbled, looking up at Sherlock and me.

Once Sherlock and John were done taking pictures, the three of us hurried outside.

Sherlock smiled, obviously amused. "You think it was the cat. It wasn't the cat. Lovely idea, though."

"But, he coated it onto the paws of her cat. It's a new pet, bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn't have-" I stumbled.

Sherlock interrupted me. "I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but it's too random and too clever for the brother."

I laughed. "He murdered his sister for her money."

"Did he?" Sherlock questioned.

John chimed in, "Didn't he?"

"No. It was for revenge. Raoul, the houseboy. Kenny Prince was the butt of his sister's jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally he had enough; fell out with her badly. It's all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, so..." Sherlock continued walking down the sidewalk.

"What about the disinfectant, then, on the cat's claws?" I questioned.

"Raoul keeps a very clean house. You came through the kitchen door, saw the state of that floor, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. You smell of disinfectant now. No, the cat doesn't come into it." Sherlock assured me, smiling at my mistake.

I smiled at my clothes and sighed. He was right.

John and I went back to Baker Street, while Sherlock headed to the Scotland Yard. I sighed as I opened the door, the familiar scent of Sherlock's experiments wafted through my nose.

"Dinner?" John looked at me. I was starving. "Yes please."

As John cooked noodles, I sat on the Couch, watching the news on the telly. Two kids were stabbed in Stoke Newington. I grimaced. Violence was an awful thing.

As John and I ate our dinner, Sherlock came walking into the flat. "The old woman. I solved the puzzle."

I smiled at him, "Is she going to be okay?"

"No. She started to describe the man who did this to her, and was blown up." Sherlock sat on his chair and closed his eyes.

I almost choked on my food.

Ms. Hudson had came in and asked for my help with her laundry, apparently she couldn't reach something. "Sure, I'd love to help." Once I came back to the flat from helping Ms. Hudson, I was amused by the sight of Sherlock siting on his chair, staring intently on the Television that I had left on.

"No, no no! Of course he's not the boy's father! Sherlock gestured to the television. "Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!"

Sighing, Sherlock folded his arms again. John, who has looked round to see what Sherlock is protesting about, started typing again.

"Knew it was dangerous." John said, smiling.

"Hmm?" Sherlock mumbled, still staring at the Television.

"Getting you into crap telly." John retorted. I walked in and sat down on the couch. Sherlock was watching a gameshow called, "Who's the father?" I snickered.

"Hmm. Not a patch on Connie Prince."

"Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?"

"Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood – again." Sherlock muttered, sighing.

"You know, I'm still waiting." John grinned and looked at Sherlock.

"Hmm?"

"For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you'd have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker." John retorted, amusement flashing in his eyes.

"Didn't do you any good, did it?" Sherlock replied.

"No, but I'm not the world's only consulting detective"

Sherlock smiled. "True."

John looked at me, "I have something for you."

I looked at him, "What?"

"Actually, Sherlock has something for you as well." John grinned. Sherlock looked up from the Telly and nodded. "Yes."

John went in the back closet and came out with a box. "Here."

I read the top of the present. _To: August, From: John._

"John, you didn't have to get me anything." I smiled at him and pulled the bow open.

"I wanted to, it was no trouble." John sat down on the couch besides me.

Once I had removed the package it revealed a beautiful leather photo album. "Oh my god. This is gorgeous. Thank you, John." I set down the book and hugged him.

"Now you have something to put all your new memories in. Happy late birthday." John nodded and stood back up. "I have to get going to Sarah's. There's still some of that risotto leftover in the fridge. That's what August and I had for dinner, Sherlock."

"Mn." Sherlock leaned behind him and grabbed a smaller box and handed it to me. "Here."

"Sherlock, you didn't have to get me anything either." I took the box and smiled at him.

"I wanted to." Sherlock replied, tucking his legs on the chair he was sitting on.

I removed the box's wrapping paper and lid. I peered inside and was shocked to find a necklace. "Sherlock...it's... beautiful." I picked up the necklace and looked at the engraving. _I love you. - Dad._

I felt tears spill from my face.

"Are you really crying? You're not suppose to be doing that. Stop it." Sherlock said, eyes wide. "That's the opposite of what's suppose to happen. John, help."

John shook his head and grinned.

I wiped my tears and stood up. "Stand up." I told Sherlock.

Once he stood from his chair, I grabbed him into a hug. "Thank you so much. I love you too."

Sherlock tensed for a moment before squeezing me back. "It's no problem."

John shrugged his coat on and walked towards the flat door.

"Uh, milk. We need milk." John turned and looked at Sherlock before he left for Sarah's.

"I'll get some."

I laughed. "Really? You? Go shopping?"

"Really." Sherlock smiled. Maybe Sherlock was more human than he thought.

I heard the door shut as John left the flat. Sherlock continued to gaze at the TV, but then he picked up his laptop from where it was tucked down beside him. Putting it on his lap and opening the lid, I saw that his laptop opened to his website, The Science of Deduction.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going out." Sherlock announced, looking at the clock.

"I'm going with you. Where are you going? To the shops?" I asked. I really wanted to take a picture of Sherlock grocery shopping.

"No. You can't come. It might be dangerous." Sherlock warned.

"More of a reason for me to come." I stated. I figured I wasn't going to get that photograph after all.

"No, August. Please. If anything happened to you I wouldn't forgive myself." Sherlock pleaded.

"If anything happened to you I wouldn't forgive myself, either." I countered, crossing my arms.

I managed to let Sherlock agree to let me come. Success.

Once it hit midnight, Sherlock and I left, walking down the sidewalk.

"Where are we going?"

"The pool." Sherlock muttered. I had to jog a little to catch up to his long strides.

We arrived to a building that held an indoor swimming pool. Sherlock opened a door and held it open for me. Sherlock walked slowly towards the shallow end of the pool, and I follow him. He stops at the edge of the pool and turns, trying to see up into the viewing gallery. Finally he turns towards the pool again, raising one hand and holding up the memory stick. What was he doing?

"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles; making me dance – all to distract me from this." Sherlock yelled, holding the memory stick higher.

Suddenly, I spot John come out from one of the changing rooms. I was shocked. John was a traitor?

"Evening." John said.

Sherlock looked like he couldn't believe it either.

"This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?" John stared at us.

"John. What the hell ...?" Sherlock moved towards John, his mouth open.

"Bet you never saw this coming." Tears threatened to leave my eyes. How could John do this to us?

I studied Sherlock's face. The shock and bewilderment on his face made him look purely innocent. Then, with a look of despair which matches Sherlock's, John takes his hands from his pockets and pulls open his jacket to reveal the bomb strapped to his chest. From somewhere in the upper gallery, a sniper's red laser immediately begins to dance around over the bomb.

I sighed in relief. Not because John's life was in jeopardy, but because John wasn't the one behind all of this.

"What ... would you like me ... to make him say ... next?" John managed to say, his eyes pleading. "Gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer."

"Stop it." I managed to say, looking around. 

"Nice touch, this: the pool, where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too. John looked down at his chest. "Stop his heart."

"Who are you?" Sherlock questioned, looking around.

A familiar voice rang out from behind the pool. "I gave you my number. I thought you might call."

Sherlock and I turn towards the voice. It's Jim, Molly's ex boyfriend. I knew that man wasn't innocent. I knew it!

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket... or are you just pleased to see me?" Jim sang, stepping towards us.

Sherlock rose the pistol in his hands. "Both."

"Jim Moriarty. Hi!" I was disgusted by this man. "Jim? Jim from the hospital? Jim who terrified little August?"

Jim started walking alongside the deep end of the pool again, and Sherlock kept his aim on Moriarty after glancing at me.

"Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point." Jim Moriarty said, as if he was disappointed. "Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty."

Sherlock kept his gun trained on him.

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see...like you!"

"Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?" Sherlock said, quoting the TV show that Jim was on. "Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?"

"Just so." Jim grinned.

"Consulting criminal." I murmured.

"Isn't it? No-one ever gets to me – and no-one ever will." Jim snarled, glaring at me.

Sherlock cocked his pistol. "I did."

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way. I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play."

I glance over to John, who closed his eyes. He didn't look like he was in pain, but I was worried about him.

"So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off." Jim finished, smiling. "Although I have loved this – this little game of ours. Playing Jim from I.T. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died." I said bravely. Sherlock gave me a look that said, _Be quiet!_

"That's what people DO!" Jim screamed. I flinched. "August. Oh sweet, sweet August. Molly's intern. Friend. Sherlock's daughter. Sherlock's heart. I will burn you. I will crash Sherlock's world."

I swallowed. "No you won't."

Jim looked at me surprisingly. "You should think more than to trust a stranger, August. I could have done anything to you on those concrete steps. Think twice about it."

Sherlock glances and me, and then to John. "Leave August out of this. You all right?"

John deliberately keeps his gaze away from Sherlock, probably because he has given instructions earlier about not talking to him. Jim walks forward again and reaches his side. I glared at him angrily. "You can talk, Johnny boy. Go ahead."

John kept quiet.

"Take it." Sherlock offered him the flash drive.

"Huh? Oh! That! The missile plans!" Jim takes the stick and kisses it, but then suddenly threw it in the pool. "I could have got those anywhere."

"Sherlock, run!" John had ran out to Moriarty and grabbed him, giving Sherlock and me the perfect opportunity to leave the pool.

"Good! Very good." Jim laughed.

We didn't move.

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up." John retorted, squeezing Jim tighter.

"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They're so touchingly loyal. But, oops! You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson." Jim laughed.

Suddenly a red laser was on Sherlock's forehead. My eyes widened. This man was awful. By the look of Sherlock's face, I had a dot on my head as well.

John released Jim and sighed.

Jim brushed off his suit and grinned. "Westwood."

"D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?" Jim threatened.

"Oh, let me guess: I get killed." Sherlock responded, sounding bored.

"Kill you?" Jim grimaces. "N-no, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway some day. I don't wanna rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you. I'll burn her."

Jim stared at me. "I'll burn the heart out of her. And then you. Well, I'd better be off."

Jim nonchalantly looks around, checking his exit route, before turning back to Sherlock and me. "Well, so nice to have had a proper chat."

Sherlock raises his pistol higher and extends it closer to Jim's head. "What if I was to shoot you now – right now?"

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock; really I would." Jim screws up his face, and then grins. "And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." Jim turned to leave. "Ciao, ladies."

Jim left the pool, but Sherlock still had his pistol aimed at the door. My heart was beating fast. What did he mean? He was going to burn me? Burn Sherlock?

"Catch ... you ... later." Sherlock dropped his gun to the floor and rushed to John. John was bent over and breathing harshly. Sherlock started undoing the bomb that was fastened to John's chest.

"All right? Are you all right?" Sherlock asked, urgently.

"Yeah-yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. Sherlock. Sh-Sherlock!" John yelled, pushing Sherlock away. His vest was now off and Sherlock had slid it towards the door where Jim had left from.

"Jesus." I muttered, eyes wide with fear.

John drops down in a squat and sighed, trying to calm his breathing.

"Are you okay, Sherlock?" I asked. Sherlock was pacing around and he was scratching his head with a loaded pistol. Not very safe.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Fine." Sherlock turned to John. "That, er ... thing that you, er, that you did – that, um... you offered to do. That was, um ... good."

"I'm glad no-one saw that." John muttered, looking down.

"What?" I questioned. I had sat down next to John, he wasn't looking too good.

"Sherlock, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk." John had said. I tried not to grin.

"People do little else." Sherlock replied, looking down at me and John.

Suddenly, Jim came back out of the door and the red lasers that were on us previously had reappeared again.

"Sorry, ladies! I'm soooooo changeable!" Jim shouted.

I grimaced in disbelief. I looked up from where I assumed the snipers would be at and sighed. There were too many. Sherlock had three dots hovering his body, while John and I both had two. At least seven snipers.

"It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness." Jim growled. "You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but ... everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!"

"Probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock raised his pistol and aimed it at Jim, but then lowered his aim to John's bomb jacket. If he were to shoot it, we would all surely die. I swallowed and prepared myself.

"I'll give you a deal, Sherlock. I will stop. Stop risking other people's lives, stop threatening you. 100% disappear from your life. For a price." Jim announced, taking a step towards us.

"What would that be?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes, not trusting him.

"The girl." My eyes widened at Moriaty's proposal.

"No. Never." Sherlock stressed, standing between me and Moriaty.

"Very well. Are you going to pull that trigger?" Jim sung, smirking and throwing his hands in the air with glee.

I closed my eyes and thought about my family. John and Sherlock included, but suddenly I heard music playing from Moriaty.

The song, 'Staying Alive' played from his cell phone. I opened my eyes and glanced at him.

"Do you mind if I get that?" Jim asked, obviously irritated.

"Oh please. You got the rest of your life." Sherlock replied sarcastically, pistol still aimed at the bombs.

Jim opened the phone, "Hello? Yes of course it is, what do you want?"

I shared a look with Sherlock. Was this man serious right now?

Jim mouthed, _sorry_ , to Sherlock. Sherlock rolled his eyes. _Oh, it's fine_ , Sherlock mouthed back.

"SAY THAT AGAIN! Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will Ssssssskkkin you." Jim snarled, dragging the S in Skin.

I frowned and looked at Sherlock. He looked just as confused as John and me.

Jim lowered the phone, looking lost. "Sorry. Wrong day to die."

I stood up. "Oh. Did you get a better offer?"

"What a sassy girl. You'll be hearing from me." Jim left the three of us at the pool, bewildered.

As soon as he left, Sherlock grabbed John and my hand and walked briskly out of the indoor pool. "Keep walking. Let's go."

Soon, we ended up back at 221B. John was sitting on his chair with a lost look on his face while Sherlock was pacing around the room.

"What has he told you, August?" Sherlock shouted, looking at me.

"When I was at the morgue with Molly he told me that people aren't always who they say they are, and when Molly introduced me as your daughter he said, 'This changes things.'" I answered, collapsing on the couch.

"Ugh! We stay on our toes. Do you hear me? John, you too. Moriaty is not going to get away with this." Sherlock declared.

The game was on.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reviewing and favoriting. It means so much! I have the next chapter written already, maybe I'll be convinced to post it faster If I get some reviews ;) ;)


	9. Chapter 9: Sophia

"Are you going to the Café, August?" Sherlock asked me from his spot on the couch, noticing the necklace I wear wearing. I wore the necklace Sherlock had given me for my birthday almost everyday. Sherlock hasn't bothered moving all morning, and it was nearing 11 AM.

"Yeah I was planning on going and just getting some coffee there. We're out of coffee grounds." I smiled at him, shrugging my coat over my shoulders.

"You and coffee. It's not right. If you're going to live in England you are going to have to learn to like tea. It's in the rules. Ask Mycroft." Sherlock snickered, sitting up and leaning towards me. Ever since the incident with Moriarty a week ago, Sherlock has been trying to lighten the mood. I appreciated it.

"It is not!" I laughed, I loved when Sherlock wasn't serious all the time. "I'll bring you back some tea."

I stepped out the door and and smiled, I loved the cold weather. I looked both ways on the road and hurried over next door to the café.

I waited in line and glanced at the menu. Breakfast was my favorite time of the day.

"A vanilla coffee and a plain tea, please." I ordered, leaning up against the counter. The guy who made my drinks smiled at me. "And what's your name, cutie?"

"August." I replied, not bothering to look up from my phone. Oops, blame it on my teenage manners.

"Oh, that's a unique name." The guy said, handing me my drinks.

"Thanks" I looked up and smiled at him and handed him the cash. When I turned around I knocked into someone and dropped Sherlock's tea. I didn't drop my coffee, though. Priorities.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" The girl who I bumped into shrieked. She had long golden brown curly hair that went to her mid stomach and light blue eyes.

"It's okay." I grinned, squatting and helping her pick of the shards of the tea's glass.

"My name is Sophia. Let buy you another tea." She offered, handing me the broken mug.

"Oh no it's no problem. It wasn't for me." I said, standing up and throwing the broken shards in the trash.

"Well I have an extra muffin and some spare time to kill if you want to have breakfast? Let me make it up to you." She looked up at me and smiled. I liked her already.

"Okay!" We sat down on one of the Café booths and started chatting.

"Where are you from? I don't recognize your accent." Sophia said, taking a bite into her muffin. She pushed the second muffin towards me and I shoveled it in my mouth. Blueberry was my favorite flavor.

"I'm from Ireland, but I live right across the street." I said, my mouth full of muffin. Sophia giggled at my bad manners and offered me a napkin.

"Thanks." I grinned.

"Oh my gosh, We are basically neighbors. I live on the other side of the café. How old are you?" Sophia asked, taking another bite of her muffin.

"I'm fourteen. How old are you?" I asked. She looked like she was about seventeen or sixteen.

"Sixteen. I graduated secondary school a couple months ago. I haven't decided if I'm going to Uni or not. Ughhh the struggle." Sophia groaned, throwing her face in her hands.

I laughed, "I graduated secondary school too, but I'm too young to go to Uni, apparently."

"Really? You graduated two years early?" Sophia looked at me with amazement.

"Three years early, I placed above average in all my tests." I bragged, smiling at her.

"That's awesome!" Sophia cheered. "I want to be a journalist. Or a news reporter. Something to do with broadcasting."

"That's awesome." I took a sip of my coffee. "I haven't quite decided what I want to do yet, maybe become a private detective. Or something to do with the police. I want to help people."

"That's great." The curly haired girl grinned at me. We ended up talking for another hour before Sherlock texted me.

 _ **Did you get lost? - SH**_

"Oops!" I looked at my phone and grimaced. "I forgot about Sherlock's tea."

 _ **No. I'm still at the café.**_ I texted back, sighing. I've been here for two hours.

"Do you have to go?" Sophia asked, disappointment in her eyes.

"Yeah, I think I do. Do you want to exchange numbers?" I gave Sophia my phone. She was cute.

"Duh!" Sophia handed me her phone and I punched in my number, leaving my name as August Holmes. Mycroft had told me he officially changed my name to Holmes the other day, even though I didn't ask him to. It was a kind offer; I think he still feels bad for scaring me my first day living with Sherlock.

We swapped back phones and stood up. "Maybe we can hang out later this week?" Sophia suggested. She was shorter than me, but not by much.

"I would love to." We hugged and I walked out, looking both ways before crossing the street. Before I went back inside 221B, I realized I forgot Sherlock's tea. Oops. I sighed and decided to just make him some when I got inside.

"What took you so long?" Sherlock and John said in unison. They were sitting on the couch, looking through papers of information.

"Oh. I uh, made a new friend." I smiled.

"Judging by the stain on your shirt I'm going to guess that's where my tea went." Sherlock grumbled, crumpling up a piece of paper and throwing it on the floor.

"Oh. Yeah. I'll make you some." I offered, heading towards to kitchen.

"No, your tea taste awful." Sherlock criticized, sighing and rubbing his hands in his hair.

"Someone's in a bad mood." I muttered, flopping on the couch.

"We can't figure out this case." John said, studying the paper in his hand.

"Anything I can do to help?" I peered over John's shoulder.

"Yes. Does this make any sense to you?" Sherlock showed me a picture of a symbol. It looked eerily familiar. I took the picture and sat down.

"Yes... it looks familiar." I studied it harder, feeling Sherlock's stare.

"Oh!" John and Sherlock looked at me. "That means fertility. And this one is...fortitude." I concluded, looking back up to Sherlock.

"Where did you learn this from?" Sherlock questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, I studied symbols and languages over the summer." I sighed. "My tutor forced me to jam as much knowledge in my brain as possible. Turns out she wanted to make money off me, who knew?" I shrugged, smiling sarcastically at John and Sherlock.

"What do you mean make money off you?" John questioned.

"I graduated at thirteen and apparently have an impressive memory. She wanted to brag about me and expand her tutoring business." I said, remembering my old tutor. That was annoying.

"What else do you know? Do you speak any languages?" Sherlock demanded.

"German, Spanish, French, and Chinese." I answered, picking at the stray hairs at my leggings.

"What is the color you see if you open your eyes in a pitch black room?" Sherlock continued to quiz me.

"Eigengrau." I answered.

"12 plus 1 equals 11 plus 2 is the anagram of what?"

"Umm... 11 plus 2?" I answered, unsure if I was correct.

"Yes." Sherlock nodded. "Who was the 27th president of America?"

"William Howard Taft."

"A bat and a ball cost $1 and 10 cents in total. The bat costs a dollar more than the ball. How much does the ball cost?" Sherlock asked, smirking slightly. Now he was just messing with me.

"5 Cents. The difference between $1 and 10 cents is 90 cents, not $1. The only way for the bat to be a dollar more than the ball and the total cost to equal $1.10 is for the baseball bat to cost $1.05 and the ball to cost 5 cents." I said, doing the math in my head.

"Why is it colder an hour after sunrise than it is at sunrise itself?" Sherlock studied my face.

"Oh. Well. The planet continues to lose heat after sunrise." I answered, I didn't know this question.

"Why?"

"I don't know." I said sheepishly. "I'm not a textbook. I don't know everything."

"Well, August. I'm impressed. You're almost as smart as me." Sherlock bragged. "What's your IQ?"

"168." I leaned my head on the couch. "What's yours?"

"193." Sherlock replied, going back and studying the photographs.

John looked like he was about to fall off his chair. "Mine is 106." Sherlock and I looked at each other and grinned.

"Ah John. Maybe someday you'll be a genius." Sherlock joked.

"Sorry I wasn't born with a brain the size of Pluto." John retorted, rolling his eyes and standing up.

"Brain size and weight does not correlate to intelligence." Sherlock stated.

"Metaphor, Sherlock." John sighed. I giggled, I'm glad that I wasn't as dense as Sherlock.

 _ **Do you want to go to the park sometime tomorrow? - Sophia**_

I looked down at my phone and grinned.

 _ **Of course! - August**_

"What are you so happy about?" Sherlock looked at me. "Is this your new friend?"

"Yeah, we're going to hang out tomorrow." I said, looking up at John and Sherlock.

"Is this new friend a boy? No dating until your at least 50." Sherlock muttered, throwing a piece of paper in the bin.

I sighed. "No it's not a boy. Besides, boys..." I paused. Are they going to be okay with this? Suddenly my heart started to beat a little faster. "I'm not really attracted to boys."

I watched Sherlock's and John's reactions closely. "Ah, give it another year or two and your hormones will be jumping all over the place." John joked, smiling at me. Ugh. I knew he meant well, though.

"No. That's not what I meant. I plenty well hit puberty." I stated, crossing my arms over my lap.

Sherlock paused, he understood what I was implying. "Ohh. That's... fine."

"I know it's fine." I insisted.

John still didn't catch on, judging by his face. I groaned. "Lesbian, John. Lesbian."

John's mouth went in the 'O' shape. "Oh. Yeah August that's fine. I still love you." John grinned.

I grinned back, "Thanks guys. It means a lot."

Sherlock nodded, "You could be purple for all I care." I smiled at him. John and Sherlock had a lot better reaction than my other family did. My mom and Tim had just told me hide it, and I'll grow out of it. That was two years ago. Spoiler alert: I didn't grow out of it.

"Are grandchildren out of the question?" Sherlock suddenly asked. I almost laughed. "No. I can adopt, or get a sperm donor. It's not that deep."

Sherlock thought about this, "Oh yeah."

"Do you want grandchildren?" I asked. I didn't think Sherlock would want grandchildren, especially since he didn't even want children.

"I do, if you do. If you don't, then, 'it's not that deep.'" Sherlock mocked my slang. John looked like he was about to cry with laughter.

"I'm going to Sarah's. I can't handle being around you Holmes family anymore or I'll have a cow." John chuckled, picking up his jacket and making his way to the door. "I'm staying the night."

"Have fun." Sherlock called to him, then looked at me. "I'm taking a short rest. I need to preserve my brain's captivity in order to process the rest of this information clearly."

"Just say that you're tired, it's easier." I huffed in exasperation. I went upstairs and laid on my bed. Sherlock wasn't the only one taking a nap this afternoon. 

A/N: A bit of a fun chapter :)


	10. Chapter 10: Foot tattoos

Life at 221B Baker Street has been quite uneventful lately. I continued to help Molly at the Morgue and occasionally help Sherlock and John on cases. Ever since John's blog had gained in popularity, we had tens of people at our doorstep a week. Some clients were interesting, others... not so much. It was usually married couples who were having relationship problems, or a suspecting wife who thinks her husband is having an affair. Boring. I got to meet a bunch of unique people though, which was always fun.

"I'm bored." Sherlock muttered, sighing in exasperation. I looked over to him, he hasn't had a good case in weeks. I think it wasn't only getting to Sherlock, but John has well. John seemed to be having leg problems again, it wasn't too bad but he did look a little stiff now and then.

"Molly wants me to help her at the morgue." I announced, standing up from the couch and looking at Sherlock.

"We'll go with you." Sherlock looked to John and nodded. I sighed and pulled my boots over my socks. Once we arrived at the Morgue I greeted Molly.

"August! I'm so glad you could help out today." Molly smiled whole heartedly at me. Molly and mine relationship was almost the one of two sisters. She told me all about her boy troubles, (which she had a lot of by the way) and I told her all about living with Sherlock and John. Sometimes it sucks being the only girl in the house.

"It was no problem, I wasn't busy today." I smiled back.

Sherlock and John had gone into the room ahead of us and we followed them. Once inside, I noticed a woman with blonde hair. She had red marks all over her body which looked very unnatural.

"Do people actually read your blog?" Sherlock mumbled from his magnifier glass, oblivious to Molly and my arrival.

"Where do you think our clients come from?" John replied, studying the woman.

"I have a website." Sherlock muttered. I smirked, sometimes he was just so dense.

"In which you enumerate two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash. Nobody's reading your website." John retorted.

I laughed out loud. John was right. I read Sherlock's website the other night, and he had five pages dedicated to different types of cloth material. It was a new type of extra.

Sherlock straightened up from inspecting the woman and pouts. "It's okay, Dad. I thought the two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash was very educating." I said sarcastically, grinning.

Sherlock looked up at me and smiled briefly, I don't think he knew I was joking. Now I feel bad.

John pointed to the red marks that I noticed a while ago, but when he turned to get Sherlock's attention, he was already walking out of the room.

"I'll see you for dinner?" John asked me, taking off his gloves in preparation to follow Sherlock.

"Actually no, Sophia and I are going to get dinner. I'll be home by 10." I announced, hiding my smile. Sophia and I have became really good friends these past couple of weeks. She made my life have a sense of stability with the craziness of Sherlock and all cases and Moriarty.

Moriarty. We haven't heard a single thing from him, and I knew it was driving Sherlock insane. I had caught him more than once staying up all night trying to track his patterns, but with no luck.

"Oh okay. See you then." John said, turning on his heels and walking out of the Morgue, following Sherlock out the room.

"August, write up the lab reports for the last five bodies and then you may leave." Molly instructed, nodding her head in the direction of her laptop. I sighed, I hated lab work.

I moved over to the computer and started a word document and sighed again. This was going to take a while.

Once I was finished writing the reports on the bodies, I shut the laptop and rubbed my eyes. That had took three hours. I looked out the window and noticed that the sun was slowly going down. _I was going to be late to dinner!_

I stood up an rushed out the the Morgue. Almost everyone had left, including Molly. When I stepped outside I felt stings of rain pelt my bare arms. Great.

Once I hauled a cab, I took out my phone and started texting. **I'll be there in ten minutes. I got caught up at the Morgue.** I pressed send and smiled at the contact photo I had set for Sophia. It was when we were at the park and her swing had broke. She landed in a giant puddle of mud and it was all over her clothes. I don't think I laughed that hard in my life.

 **Okay! I got us a table, so just say you're with the Devin table. -Sophia**

"Thanks for the ride. You can keep the change." I told the cabbie, handing him 20 pounds. I got out of the cab and ran to the restaurant to avoid getting wet.

"I'm with Devin." I told the waiter. She smiled at me and led me to a table, where I saw Sophia sitting.

"Hey! You're soaked." Sophia commented, pushing a mug towards the seat across from her. I looked down at the mug and grinned, vanilla coffee, my favorite.

"Yeah. I didn't realize that it had started raining. Molly had me writing FIVE reports. Ugh." I complained, pulling my hair out of my bun and letting the soft waves fall down my back.

"That's awful." Sophia giggled, looking at me. I smiled at her, but couldn't help but notice the bright mixture of blue and green of her eyes. It was memorizing. The way her jawline cut into her face to bring in her soft chin was perfect. Her voluminous golden brown curls that stretched to the middle of her back, her soft eyes that connected with her nose in the most beautiful way could bring anyone to their knees in awe. That anyone being me.

I wasn't just in love with her body, I was in love with her as a whole. I never believed anyone was perfect until I had met her. The way she was so openminded to any situation, how she always gives a couple pounds to the homeless couple down the street, the way she laughs at anyones jokes, no matter how bad they are. I was head over heels in love with Sophia.

As far as I knew, she was straight. She had mentioned an ex boyfriend to me a couple weeks ago. They had dated for a year before she had broke up with him. I tried to not let it bother me, it was just going to have to be something that I will bare. I couldn't risk my only friendship. Sophia was the only person around my age that understood me better than I ever understood myself. She met Sherlock with an open mind and to my surprise, Sherlock had liked her. She understood how I lived, and how crazy my life was, and that didn't scare her away.

"I know. I've been trying to get away from the flat more often, though. Sherlock has been driving me utterly insane. He hasn't found a good case in weeks. I think John is just as bored." I told Sophia, looking through the menu and deciding on getting the chicken tenders and chips.

"My dad came across something unusual the other day while working. There was a dead lady in the sewer system but nobody knows who she is and how she got down there. It would have been almost impossible for her to get down there because of the metal bars. Perhaps Sherlock would want to check it out?" Sophia told me. Her dad was a police officer who I had met once for five minutes. Sophia told me she never gets to see him that much and it kind of bothered her. He was a single father, so he had to work a lot to be able to support himself and Sophia.

"I'll mention it to him. Actually, do you want to just spend the night? You can tell him yourself if you want." I told her, picking up my mug and taking a sip out of my coffee.

"Sure! My dad is working overnight, so I doubt he cares. I'll text him anyway, though."

We continued to talk and eat our dinner. Once we were finished, Sophia convinced me to let her pay for it, and after arguing, I finally gave in. One thing about Sophia is that she was stubborn, but I didn't mind.

Once we were back at 221B, I noticed that Sherlock was studying a newspaper, while John was watching telly, eating mushroom soup. Yuck.

"August, Sophia. Did you have a nice dinner?" John looked at us from the couch.

"Yes, we got a bit wet though." I laughed, squeezing out my wet hair on the floor mat. "Sherlock, Sophia has some information that you might want to hear."

Sherlock looked up from the newspaper and studied Sophia, obviously deducing her.

"Go on."

"Well, Mr. Holmes, my father is a police officer and he got called in to take a look down at the eastern sewers. Apparently a woman was down there, dead. They couldn't figure out who she was and how she got down there. It should have been literally impossible for her to get into the sewer since there are metal bars not even large enough for a small rabbit to get in." Sophia claimed, standing next to me.

Sherlock looked puzzled for a moment. "Interesting. Is there any way I can get in contact with your father?"

"Yes. He should be home tomorrow morning. I can take you to him."

"Brilliant. Yes. Yes!" Sherlock cheered, lamented at the thought of a new case.

I shared a look with Sophia, and we both burst into a fit of giggles.

"This will finally give me something to write about, my blog has been dry for the past three weeks." John commented, setting his spoon into the mushroom soup.

"Mmn. And your limp is back." Sherlock noticed, concern tracing his eyes.

"It..is not! It's not bad. Just a slight ache." John defended. I had noticed that his limp had came back, too.

"That'll surely go away. The fun is back!" Sherlock announced, throwing the newspaper he was reading into the bin.

Sophia and I went over and sat next to John.

"Sarah and I broke up." John told me, sighing.

"Oh, John. I'm sorry. How come?" I really did like Sarah, she made the best chicken pasta.

"She told me that I spent more time with Sherlock than I did her. Funny. But I guess true." John chuckled, shaking his head. He went up and put his bowl in the sink.

"She was only getting in your way." Sherlock mumbled from his chair.

"No. I liked Sarah, Sherlock." John defended.

"Girlfriends... dull." I didn't miss the look Sherlock gave me.

"I'm going to bed. I'll see you guys in the morning." John smiled at us and went upstairs to his room.

"Sophia and I are going to bed too." I told Sherlock. He nodded at me before picking up his violin and letting out a soft tune.

I put on my black shorts and white tank top before flopping onto my bed. Sophia didn't have any pajamas, so I gave her a set of my sweatpants and a baggy tee shirt.

"Teach me." I mumbled into my pillows.

Sophia turned to look at me, her face hidden in my blankets. "Teach you what?"

"Teach me how you're so pretty all the time." Was I flirting with my best friend?

Sophia blushed. "I will, if you teach me how you're so pretty."

I felt butterflies set in my stomach. "Stop." I picked up my pillow and pushed it at her face. She laughed, and snatched the pillow out of my hands before attacking me with it. Soon, it led to a full fledge pillow fight.

"Okay, okay! You win!" I cried, putting my hands up to defend my from the white pillow. Sophia laughed and collapsed on my bed, putting the pillow behind her head. I sat down as well and fixed the blankets, snuggling under them.

"Goodnight, Sophia." I mumbled, already half asleep.

Sherlock was the one who woke us up, exclaiming that they need to go talk to Sophia's dad as soon as possible. I tried to reason with him, and tried to tell him it could wait a couple hours, but Sherlock insisted that we went now, at 7:30 AM. I wasn't a morning person.

The four of us crossed the street to Sophia's house, which didn't take long since she lived right across from 221B. Very convenient.

Sophia went ahead of us and unlocked the door. "Dad? I'm home."

A tall man who resembled Sophia came in our view. "Hello, please sit."

Sophia must have told him that we were coming before we left. The four of us sat down on Sophia's furniture and looked at Mr. Devin.

"I was called down to the station last night to go with the squad team to the eastern sewers. There was a woman there, dead, in the waters. The problem is there is absolutely no way she could have got there. The sewers are shut off. There are gates, that barely frogs can get into, but not possibly a human." Mr. Devin began, pushing his glasses up on his nose. For a police officer, he was kind of nerdy looking. "We were able to get down to the water with the help of a construction team and investigate. When we got there, there were letters spray painted on the tunnels. The body is now at Bart's Morgue, however. It's a open case."

Sherlock looked interested, he had his hands propped up to hold his head, and his eyes were focused on Mr. Devin. John was nodding along to Mr. Devin's story, confusion clouded in his eyes.

"What were the letters?" John asked, setting down his pen on his notepad.

"J and M. No idea what they stand for." I paled. JM? Jim Moriarty? Did he kill that woman? Oh my God. I could tell John and Sherlock were having the same reaction as I was.

"Do you have access to the sewer? Can we go down there?" Sherlock asked, standing up and brushing off his coat.

"Why...yes. I can get you down there, but only for a couple minutes. I'm a police officer, my work there is done." Mr. Devin sat up as well, nodding at Sherlock.

John, Sophia, and I also stood up. "Let's go."

When we arrived, I was instantly disgusted. Brown, murky water was everywhere. The entrance to the tunnels was a large hole in a sidewalk, that the construction crew had made in order to get into the tunnels. Mr. Devin and Sophia stayed at the entrance while me, Sherlock, and John went inside.

"Gross!" I shuttered. This was disgusting. Water filled my boots.

"You could have stayed up there, you know." John looked at me, his face was twisted into a grimace from the slimy water.

"John, August, look." Sherlock pointed to the letters on the side of the tunnel. **JM**

"That has to be Jim Moriarty." John commented, walking knee deep through the water.

"Perhaps. Now, how did he get the body here? It would have been impossible. These tunnels don't lead anywhere." Sherlock sighed, flashing the flashlight to the end of the tunnel.

"Maybe it does. We can't see under this water, maybe there's a door or something." I said. The tunnel was a dark, large room that ended about 500 feet away. Maybe there was a secret door?

"Unlikely. The concrete this tunnel is made out of is 20 feet thick. It would take a lot of effort to just get a body in here...unless..." Sherlock studied the side of the tunnel. "This tunnel is about 50 years old, the fragments that were destroyed to create an entrance were new. I need to see the body."

The three of us traveled up the ladder and back to the ground, my clothes now being soaked from the sewer water.

"Ew. You stink!" Sophia laughed, pointing at my jeans.

"You try going into a sewer." I joked back, smiling.

The four of us went to Bart's Morgue. Sophia's dad was called into the station so he had left. I could see on Sophia's face that she hated how much her dad worked. He was never around. I squeezed her shoulder on the cab ride over and she leaned her head on my shoulder.

Once we arrived, Sherlock demanded that we see the body.

"Right this way." Lestrade said, walking towards the room that help the body. I thought briefly about Sophia. Has she ever seen a dead body? She's about to now.

It was a woman with short brown hair. Her skin was bloated from being in the water for so long, and she stunk. "Ugh." I muttered, eyeing the body.

"I'm going to wait in the other room." Sophia said, covering her nose and walking out of the room.

"She's been dead for about two weeks." Lestrade announced, covering his nose and mouth.

"And you found her yesterday?" John was now inspecting the body, covering his nose as well.

"Yes. The water bloated her skin, so it's almost impossible to identify who she was." Lestrade said, backing away from the body.

"Sherlock. Look." John pointed to the woman's foot, which had two letters tattooed on the bottom of it. **JM**

"No! How? How is he getting the upper hand?" Sherlock slammed his hand on the table and sighed.

"Who?" Lestrade asked, confusion crossed on his face.

"Moriarty!" Shouted Sherlock. "John, August, I need to go back to the flat."

"Why?! Why is he doing this?" Sherlock shouted, throwing the newspaper clipping on the ground. The four of us went back to the flat to try to figure out how this was happening.

"To mess with you. To mess with us." I said, I was tired of this. I was tired of Moriarty. I was tired of him threatening us.

"I know, but why this? What does this woman have to correlate to anything? Why the sewer? It could have been months before she was found." Sherlock sat down and rubbed his head.

"I think I should get home, Dad is coming home tonight and I promised to make him dinner." Sophia smiled, standing up from the couch.

"Awh, okay. I'll see you later?" I stood up and hugged Sophia. I always hated when Sophia had to go home after hanging out.

"Of course! I want to know how this case turns out."Sophia said, nodding at me. "Bye Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson. Thank you for breakfast."

"Anytime, Sophia. And just call me John." John smiled at her.

Once Sophia had left I flopped back on the couch. "Maybe he wanted this to be completely random, to throw you off." I suggested. Sherlock looked distressed, as he always did when he couldn't figure out a case.

"Perhaps."

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I looked at the caller ID. Sophia.

"Sophia?"

"August! My dad told me there is another woman who died. She had the same foot tattoo as the other lady." I heard Sophia from the phone.

"Oh my God. I have to go." I clicked the phone shut and stared at Sherlock.

"What?"John questioned, looking at me.

"There's another lady with the same foot tattoo as the other woman. Dead."

A/N: Thank you guys so so so so much for your reviews and favs! I am overwhelmed with delight! 3 The next chapter will be up soon!

If you want to see what Sophia and August look like, you can see here on my watt pad: 371877213-august-holmes-sherlock%27s-daughter-chapter-one-car


	11. Chapter 11: Gone

The three of us stood around the tall oak tree, tears were threatening to leave my eyes. On one of the branches was a woman, hanging by her neck. A thick rope cut off her air circulation. It looked like a suicide, but we knew that it wasn't. The letters 'JM' were tattooed on the bottom of her feet, just like the last woman.

"Suicide, nothing more." A police officer walked up to Sherlock, John, and I and nodded. He looked be about forty years old and had two sons. He had uneventful life, judging by his clothes and wrinkles that were painted on his face.

"This wasn't a suicide. There are hand bruising forming around her neck. Someone made this look like a suicide." Sherlock said, pointing to the woman's neck. I closed my eyes.

"Are you okay? You don't have to be here if you don't want to be, August." John stood next to me, his eyes looked dim.

"It's okay. It's just sickening what this man is doing." I swallowed my disgust and focused on the woman. A golden wedding ring glistened from her finger. I swallowed again.

"Sherlock, I can't prove that this wasn't a suicide." I heard Lestrade's voice from a few feet away. I opened my eyes to see him and Sherlock conversing.

"Of course you can. Get me a DNA test. There are bruises on her neck from a man's hand." Sherlock retorted, obviously annoyed in Lestrade's attempts. "Get her down from there."

I watched as the police team carefully cut the rope that was suspending the woman from the ground. They placed the body in a bag once she was cut, and set it in an ambulance.

My attention was distracted as my phone beeped in my pocket, looking down, I noticed that Molly texted me.

 **August I need you at the Morgue NOW, I need help! Please come. - Molly**

 **Are you okay? I'll be there as soon as I can. - August**

 **No, I'm not okay. It's an emergency. - Molly**

I looked at John. "Molly needs me at the Morgue. She says it's an emergency. Tell Sherlock I left." I didn't wait for John's reply before I started running towards the main road. Molly never needed me as an emergency. Something was wrong.

As soon as I hailed a cab, I rushed the cabbie to get to Bart's Morgue as fast as they could. Once we were there, I threw a 10 pound note towards the cabbie and slammed the door shut, sprinting towards the morgue.

"August!" I turned and saw no other than Jim Moriarty on the sidewalk, walking calmly towards me.

"Jim Moriarty? What do you want?" I yelled towards him, backing up as he approached me.

"I told you, I was going to burn the heart out of you." Moriarty threatened, taking more steps towards me.

I was outside the Morgue door, if I was fast enough I could run and go inside. He would have a less likely chance of catching me inside a building then on the open sidewalk. I turned my head away from Moriarty and prepared to start running. My heartbeat pounded inside my chest. It felt like a thousand drums were beating in my ears.

As I sprinted towards the door, my body slammed into something, or more like someone; how did I not see them? I ricocheted off them and landed on the ground, my back searing in agony from the fall.

The person who I ran into was a tall and stocky man. They had a large muscular frame that's covered in dark clothing. I didn't see if he used his hand or foot, it was too fast. A crushing blow struck my chest and I felt myself skid even farther back from where I had originally fell.

I was too stunned to feel the pain. I couldn't breathe yet.

He walked towards me slowly. "That's a very nice distance you fell." London accent.

I ignored him, scrambling on my hands and knees, crawling away from him. I had to get out of here. I caught Moriarty watching from the corner of my eye and swallowed uneasily.

The large man was over me at once, his foot stepping down hard on my arm. I heard the sickening snap before I felt it. But then I _did_ feel it, and I couldn't hold back my scream of agony. I twisted up to reach for my arm, and he was standing over me, smiling. Why was there nobody seeing this? Why wasn't anybody helping me?

He lunged at me for the final time, I saw the needle in his hands before it was plunged into my bloodstream, paralyzing me from moving. The pain where the needle was ejected made me scream again. Through the nausea and dizziness I saw something that made me burn with anger. Moriarty was watching me, laughter rippling through his body.

 _Let it be quick,_ I hoped as the blood that flowed from my arm sucked my consciousness. My eyes were closing. I heard, as if I was underwater, Moriarty's muffled stifling laugh. With my last bit of energy, I spat in his direction. My eyes closed, and all I could see was darkness. 

I woke up in a damp room and looked around. I had no idea where I was at. It was a poorly lit room, with only a small sized window. It looked to be someone's old bedroom. Creepy. I looked down at my body, the pain in my arm had dulled to a slight ache. I tried to rub my arm, but my hands were constricted behind my back.

I tried to steady my breathing, which was hard. I knew I would go in shock if I didn't calm myself down. John had taught me that the last time I was kidnapped. I laughed humorlessly. _The last time I was kidnapped._

Once my breathing was at a healthy pace, I tried to free my hands. They were bound with rope, so if I found something sharp I could break them. I looked around and sighed, there was nothing remotely sharp in this room.

My attention caught to the only door in the room opening, which revealed Moriarty.

"What do you want?" I shrieked at him, anger and fear bubbling in my stomach.

"Oh sweetheart. I told you. I was going to burn the heart out of the Holmes." He had walked slowly towards me, as if he was taunting me. He squatted down so he had eye contact with me and smiled.

"Leave us alone. We did nothing to you." I spat, turning my face away from his hand.

"Oh but we both know that's not true. Your daddy got too close. He must be stopped. You must be stopped." Moriarty snarled, standing up and sighing dramatically.

"Me? I haven't done anything." I said, rubbing my hands together in attempt to break my bonds. My broken arm screamed in protest.

"Oh, not yet. But I'm not stupid, August. You're a Holmes. Just as smart as daddy I presume. This is me moving my Chess piece. Please enjoy your stay." Moriarty grinned up at me before turning on his heel and leaving the room, slamming the door into silence.

I was alone once again. I tried my hardest not to cry, I was stronger than that. Sherlock and John will find me and everything will be okay.

As the time went on, I entertained myself by counting how many times I could rub my hands together. I was weakening my bonds, but I still couldn't get my hands free. I couldn't feel my arm now. Which I assume was better than feeling it.

Suddenly the door opened again and I recognized the man from earlier, the one who injected me outside the Morgue.

"This will go by quick." The man muttered, surging forwards and yanking me to my feet. He looked me in my face before shoving me in the wall, I felt myself flying backwards, and then heard the crunch as my head bashed into a mirror that was behind me. The glass shattered, some of the pieces crashing to the floor besides me.

I gasped and stared at my attacker. "You...you're tough. Beating up a fourteen year old girl." I snarled sarcastically, the fall had jolted my arm and I could feel it again. The throbbing overwhelmed my senses as I tried to steady my breathing. I was in agony.

"Shut up." His foot stepped on my broken arm and I heard a piercing scream. With a shock, I realized that it was mine.

"No." I managed to croak. Something smashed into my face, throwing me back into the mirrors.

Over the pain of my arm, I felt a sharp rip across my scalp where the broken mirror cut into. Warm liquid began to spread through my hair rapidly. I could feel it soaking the green and yellow tank top I had worn today and drip onto the floor below. The iron scent of my blood made me sick.

 _Sherlock, please help me._

For the second time that day, I drifted into unconsciousness. 

A/N: Poor August :( Will Sherlock be able to reach her in time?  
Also I updated early bc ily guys


	12. Chapter 12: Bliss

My mind was at bliss, at a dreamlike state. I thought of Sophia, her radiant smile and bouncy curls. I thought of Sherlock, grinning as he beat me in yet another game of Chess. I thought of Ms. Hudson, laughing at some joke I had made. I thought of my mother and Ely, alive and happy. Lastly I thought of John, humming to himself as he made Sherlock and I dinner.

Suddenly, I heard the best voice my ears could ever listen to at a time like this. My body was launched back to reality by a sharp pain stabbing my upper thigh, but I didn't have enough strength to open my eyes.

I must be dead. There was too much blood.

"Oh no, August, no!" The voice cried in horror. Was that my angel calling me to heaven?

I tried to concentrate on the voice, but it was hard. I tried to focus on opening my eyes, but instead I found a dark bliss in my dreams.

"August, please! August, listen to me, please, please, August, please!" He begged.

I wanted to respond, I wanted to tell the voice that I was okay, but I couldn't find my lips.

"John!" The voice called, agony tainting his voice. "August, August, no, oh please, no, no!" And the voice was sobbing tearful, broken sobs.

I tried to think of how wrong it was for this voice to sob. This voice never cried, never sounded with this much emotion, this much agony. It was wrong. I tried to muster enough energy to tell the voice that everything is fine, but the darkness was clouding my brain, and I couldn't breathe.

There was a sharp pressure against my head. It hurt. Then, as that pain broke through the darkness to me, other pains came, stronger pains. I cried out, gasping, breaking through the dark cloud that swarmed my mind.

"August!" The voice cried.

"She's lost a ton of blood, but her wound isn't deep." A soothing voice informed me. This was a new voice. "Watch out for her arm, it's broken."

A shriek of fury strangled on the familiar voice's lips.

I felt a sharp stab in my side. This couldn't be the heaven that I thought I was going to, could it? There was too much pain.

"Some ribs too." The calm voice continued.

The sharp pains were fading. There was a new pain, a scalding pain in my thigh that was overshadowing everything else. It was white hot, as if something was pushing a oven mitt in my skin.

"Sherlock." I tried to speak, but my voice was faint and sluggish. I couldn't understand myself.

"August, you're going to be fine. Can you hear me?" Sherlock stroked my face slowly.

"Sherlock." I tried to speak again, my voice a little clearer.

"I'm here."

"It hurts." I whimpered.

"I know, August. I know." I felt Sherlock turn. "Can't you do anything?"

"Yes, give me your scarf. Quick!" I heard John from beside me. John was here?

"My thigh hurts." I tried to tell John, I heard myself whimper in agony.

"I know, August. It's going to be okay." John tried to comfort me.

"My leg is hot!" I felt myself scream, finally opening my eyes. I couldn't see Sherlock's or John's face, something was clouding my vision. Why couldn't they see how much pain I was in?

John's voice frightened me, "August?"

"There's a fire on my thigh! It burns." I yelled, tears rushing down my eyes.

"John, her leg. There's a needle puncture." Sherlock said, brushing his fingers down my leg.

"She was injected with poisoned." John's voice was no longer calm, it was frantic. I heard Sherlock catch his breath in horror.

"Please..." I whispered. I realized that I had closed my eyes again and opened them, this time I found Sherlock's eyes. "Dad." Sherlock's face was twisted in agony, not knowing what to do.

"We have to take her to the hospital." Sherlock begged, looking over to John.

"No. There's no time. Find me the needle. I can try and suck the poison out with that." John instructed, putting more pressure on my head. The pain of my broken arm and head was lost in the poison that was flowing through my blood stream. I didn't even remember being injected with anything. The last thing I remember was losing conscious after being thrown into the mirror.

Sherlock returned to my side and handed John something. I wretched in the white blazing torture of the poison I was injected with. My jerking movements making my leg explode with pain.

I gasped as I felt a new stab of pain explode in my leg. I looked over to see John stabbing a needle in my thigh, withdrawing from the handle. "It hurts." I whimpered, tears flowing quickly down my face. Sherlock wiped them away, "I know, it'll be over soon."

Slowly, my leg became numb. The inferno the poison conceived was dulling away as John withdrew the needle from my thigh. I felt the darkness approach me again as the pain in my body subsided.

"Dad." I tried to say, but I couldn't hear my voice.

"He's right here, August." John said. In the corner of my eye, I saw him take out his phone and speak in a horrid manner.

"Dad." I said again, my voice breaking.

"I'm here." Sherlock pulled me on his lap and I closed my eyes. "I love you." I heard him say. His tears dripped onto my cheeks.

"Good." I breathed, I was so tired.

I heard John chuckle from beside me. "We should move her outside, so the ambulance can find us."

"No... I'm tired. I don't want to move." I mumbled, breathing deeply into Sherlock's lap.

"You can sleep, sweetheart. I will carry you." Sherlock soothed. I never heard so much emotion in his voice before, it was relaxing.

I felt myself in a pair of arms, cradled against my father's chest.

"It's going to be okay." Were the last words I heard. 

My eyes opened to a bright, white light. I was in an unfamiliar room, a white room. The wall beside me was covered in ugly white blinds. Above me, glaring lights blinded me. I was propped up on a hard, uneven bed with rails on both sides of me. The pillows were lumpy and hard. There was an annoying beeping sound somewhere close by, I hoped that meant I was still alive.

My hands were twisted with blue and red tubes, and something was taped across my face, under my nose. I lifted my hand to rip it off.

"August, no." Warm fingers caught my hand.

"Sophia?" I turned my head slightly, her face just inches away from mine. I took in the full of the situation, and realized that I was alive. I made it out alive. "Oh, Sophia. I'm so sorry." I cried.

"Shhh," she shushed me. "Everything's all right now. Why are you apologizing?"

"I must of scared you. I scared Sherlock and John. Where are they?" I couldn't remember clearly on what happened, my head was dizzy.

"Sherlock and John are outside, talking with the doctors. Everything is okay." Sophia comforted me, her voice sounded like she had been crying.

"I want to see them." I tried to sit up, but the spinning in my head accelerated, and Sophia's hand pushed me down gently.

"They'll be here in a minute." Sophia promised. "You need to stay still so you can heal."

I sighed, and it hurt. I stared at the huge lump under the hospital sheet that was suppose to be my arm. "How bad am I?"

"The doctors told us that you have a broken arm, two broken ribs, head trauma, and bruises covering about every inch of your skin, and you lost a lot of blood. They gave you a few transfusions." Sophia whispered, stroking my hair out of my face.

Slowly, Sophia leaned in towards me, her soft lips glazing mine. The gentle pressure of our lips crashing into each other sent my heart sky rocketing. Was Sophia really kissing me?

As soon as it started, Sophia pulled away. "I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean to do that."

I was shocked. "No... Sophia. That was more than fine." We shared a grin before the door opened and revealed Sherlock and John marching into my room.

I wanted to jump out of my bed and run to them, to show them that I was fine. But I wasn't in any shape to be jumping out of bed, so I waited impatiently.

"Sherlock. John." I whispered, my voice full of relief.

Sherlock nodded at Sophia before going to my bedside.

"August...I was so worried. I...When I saw you. Everything stopped. I never felt anything like it." Sherlock looked at me. His eyes were red, like he had been crying. Sherlock? Crying over me? His face looked so sad, like someone had done the worst things imaginable to him.

"I'm sorry, Dad. Everything is okay now." I tried to comfort him.

"I'm glad." He sat on the edge of my bed and sighed. John was standing next to me.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, looking up at John.

He sighed, "A week. It's Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" I was shocked. It was Thursday when Molly had sent me that text. Molly!

"Is Molly okay?" I asked horridly, panic flashing in my eyes.

Sherlock looked at me funny. "Of course she is, why wouldn't she be?"

"I went to the Morgue because she sent me a text saying she needed help right away. I.." I stumbled. The heart rate monitor next to me suddenly started beeping louder.

"Calm down, Molly is fine. She visited you the other day." John looked at me and nodded. "You've been sedated for a while. You have a lot of injuries."

"I know." I could feel them.

I heard Sophia breathe from the other side of the room. My lips still tingled from where hers had brushed against me.

"August. I think you shouldn't live with me anymore - at 221b." Sherlock's voice echoed around the hospital room.

It didn't sink in at first. I continued to stare at him blankly as the words one by one clicked into place in my head like a crossword puzzle. My breath hitched and I felt my ribs complain painfully.

Sherlock didn't say anything, but concern was laced in his eyes. A nurse knocked on the door and let herself in. She fidgeted with my tubes and heart monitor before leaving again.

"No. Don't leave me." I begged Sherlock, my voice sounding more like the one of a five year old than a fourteen year old. "I can't lose anymore family."

"August, calm down. I'm not going anywhere." Sherlock said, placing his hand on my hand.

"Promise?" I squeaked. I forgot that John and Sophia were still in the room.

"I promise. I just think you should live with Molly, or even Sophia. It's not safe at 221B anymore." Sherlock continued, squeezing my hand gently.

"No...221B is my home. I was attacked at the Morgue, not at home. I'm not moving." I said stubbornly. Sherlock sighed, "We'll talk about it later."

I smiled up at my family. Sherlock, John, Sophia. They were the ones I had loved the most, not including Mrs. Hudson.

"Go to sleep, August. We will be here when you wake up." John murmured to me. I felt myself growing drowsy. The nurse who fixed my tubes must have applied more morphine to my IV.

Soon, I was sleeping blissfully. 

A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter was unreadable! Hopefully you can read it now! Thank you to: Galwidantitud for realizing the mistake!

I update on my wattpad first, and then copy and paste this story to fanfiction. If you want to be the first to get the update, heres my wattpad:

user/TheTurtleSaidHello


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